


Dragon Age: Inquisition - A Veiled Fate

by Mossflower_17



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Mage Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Novelization, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Evelyn Trevelyan, Redemption, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25384213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossflower_17/pseuds/Mossflower_17
Summary: Evelyn Trevelyn was a young, sheltered mage at the Ostwick Circle before the war began. Now, with an unholy breach in the sky and demons slithering out of fade rifts across the land, she must step into a role nobody had prepared her for: Herald of Andraste, and leader of the mighty Inquisition. Can she restore order, restore people's faith; and resist falling in love with her handsome Templar commander?Or, the novelisation of Dragon Age: Inquisition that nobody asked for, but you're all getting anyway. What can I say, I love Bioware RPG's. Check out my Mass Effect: Andromeda fic too, if that's your thing...Some fluff, some angst, some battle scenes along the way. I will be mostly following game canon, but with my own scenes and additional dialogue too. Looking forward to hearing what y'all think.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue

Opening her eyes, Evelyn immediately wished that she hadn’t done so. The dim light from a pair of guttering torches was still enough to blind her momentarily. A bright star of pain blossomed behind her eyes, and she winced. _Where am I?_ she thought, bewildered. _What in the Maker’s name just happened?_ She glanced warily around, eyes widening as she took in the armed guards standing foursquare around her, each holding a drawn sword.

_Templars!_ her inner thought screamed. _They’ve finally found us – they’re going to kill us!_ She felt her magics flare to life inside her, unbidden, roused by her sudden panic. But no, she realized, once her eyes had adjusted to the gloom. It was still dark, and they were somewhere underground; but there was enough light for her to notice the familiar emblem of the Templar Order was conspicuously absent from her captor’s mail and leather armour. These people did not look, or feel, like mage-hunters.

Relieved, she shifted slightly, and was rewarded with a dull clanking sound. Her wrists had been manacled together; but for the moment, that was not uppermost in her thoughts. At the slight movement her left hand pulsed, shot through with pure agony. She gasped. Pain throbbed through her palm, and as it did so a strange green light arose, flickering in tune with the pulses, filling the small cell with an unearthly glow. The guards muttered and shifted, raising their swords fractionally higher. Evelyn swallowed hard, trying to remain still. Their fear and anger were palpable. She knew with utmost certainty that one false move from her would be all the excuse these men needed to drive their blades into her.

_What in the world is going on?_ she thought desperately. _What am I doing here? Who are these people?_ But her mind remained stubbornly, bewilderingly blank. She chanced another glance up at her guards, trying to make sense of their uniforms. She was frightened, certainly; but curiosity was also flashing a fin. If these people weren’t Templars, then who were they? And why had they imprisoned her?

She was torn from her thoughts as the cell door slammed open. Two women entered. The first one stormed through the narrow aperture, boots slamming against the stone as though she would shake the very earth itself; and well she might, Evelyn realized with a gulp. This woman, with the dark hair and flashing eyes, was wearing the colours of a Seeker of Truth, one of the most powerful orders in Thedas.

‘Tell me why we shouldn’t just kill you now,’ she snarled, reaching down to tug hard on the chain that bound Evelyn’s hands. ‘The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.’ Her harsh voice rang in the small chamber, and she glared down at the captive mage as though she might skewer her with her gaze alone.

Evelyn swallowed hard. Fear made her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth, but her silence seemed to enrage the Seeker. With a growl, the woman grabbed Evelyn by the wrist, raising her chained hand and shaking it hard. ‘Explain _this,_ ’ she snarled. Green light crackled and flared from the strange mark deeply incised on her palm.

Evelyn winced as pain pulsed through her again. ‘I can’t,’ she stuttered.

‘What do you mean, you _can’t?’_ snapped her interrogator, glaring daggers.

‘I don’t know what that is, or how it got there! It just… hurts!’ she replied, staring wildly up at the two women, willing them to believe her. She winced and gasped as another crackle of energy caused the pain to increase.

‘You’re lying!’ snarled the Seeker. She grabbed Evelyn by the front of her coat, shaking her remorselessly.

‘We need her, Cassandra!’ interrupted the other woman in warning. She was walking softly, prowling silently around Evelyn like a large, predatory cat. Strands of auburn hair shimmered from beneath a deep cowl framing a pale, pointed face. She appeared unarmed, and less obviously dangerous than the furious Seeker; but when Evelyn dared to look into her eyes, the stare she met was as cool and merciless as the heart of winter.

Evelyn shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t. Surely you… you cannot be serious. All those people…?’ she added, more to herself than anybody else.

‘Do you remember what happened? How this began?’ the hooded woman spoke briskly, her voice sharply accented.

‘I remember… running,’ replied Evelyn slowly, frowning in concentration. Fragmented images swirled through her mind; were they memories, or dreams? She was unable to tell. ‘Things were chasing me, and then… a woman?’

‘A woman?’ Her interrogator quirked an eyebrow skeptically.

‘She reached out to me, but then…’ Evelyn groaned. Her head was pounding, and trying to dredge up the memories was making her feel cold and sick. But despite her best efforts, she could remember nothing after arriving at Haven with her fellow mages. _How long ago was that?_ she wondered, swallowing nervously. _How long have I been here – and why can’t I remember anything?_

‘Go to the forward camp Leliana,’ she heard the Seeker say. ‘I will take her to the rift.’

The hooded woman vanished. Dazedly, Evelyn realized that Cassandra was tugging at her restraints, removing the heavy board that kept her hands apart, allowing her to stand and walk more easily.

‘What _did_ happen?’ she asked nervously. ‘I just… don’t remember.’ She winced as strong hands gripped her upper arms, hoisting her onto her feet.

‘It will be easier to show you,’ Cassandra replied brusquely. She stalked on ahead, leaving Evelyn to follow. A set of double doors were unbarred and pushed wide, and the two women stepped out into the freezing mountain air. _We’re still in the Frostbacks,_ Evelyn realized with some relief, before her gaze was arrested and dragged unwillingly upwards: towards a swirling vortex of cloud and shadow, where a great, ragged hole had been torn in the fabric of the sky itself. She swallowed, clenching her fists as nausea rose hard and fast at the sight. Eldritch green light flickered and lapped around the edges of that great unnatural rent; the same green light that pulsated and hummed from the mark on her hand.

‘We call it the Breach,’ supplied Cassandra quietly. ‘It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.’ She turned to face Evelyn. The warrior’s face was set, grimly determined; but Evelyn could see the worry creasing the delicate skin around her eyes, and the tension in her jaw. The Seeker was afraid.

‘…Oh.’ Evelyn stared upwards, feeling fresh terror trailing frozen fingers down her spine. The Breach was enormous. It seemed to fill the entire sky, pouring fell light down upon the world, tingeing everything a sickening green colour. She could feel her heart thrumming within her chest. _Not good; this is definitely not good,_ her inner thought was babbling. Her chest tightened with suppressed panic. _This means demons, she realized. Demons, slithering out of our dreams and into the real world…_

‘It’s not the only such rift,’ continued Cassandra quietly. ‘Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.’

‘An explosion can do that?’ Evelyn asked, bewildered. She had never heard of such a thing happening before.

‘This one did,’ replied Cassandra shortly. ‘And unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.’ As she spoke, a crackling spire of green light flared at the center of the rift. As if in answer, the mark on Evelyn’s hand pulsated. She cried out in pain as a wave of swift agony spiked through her palm. She fell to her knees, gasping.

The Seeker dropped to one knee beside her, grabbing her arm and holding it steady. ‘Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads,’ she said grimly. ‘And it is killing you.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘It may be the key to stopping this. But there isn’t much time.’

Evelyn groaned as the green light from the mark flickered and died. The pain also drained away. But not entirely. Something remained, pulsing rhythmically in the center of her palm; not quite pain, but the ghost of it. She looked up into Cassandra’s face, willing herself to match the fierce woman stare for stare. ‘You truly believe that this mark… that I can do something with it? Something to stop all… all _this?_ ’ she asked, trying to draw in a deep, steadying breath.

The Seeker nodded.

‘Then… I shall try.’ The taste of fear was bitter on her tongue; but somehow, in the light of the Breach, the presence of the warrior felt almost comforting. She stared up at Cassandra: at the scar on her cheek, at her stern dark eyes; desperate to look anywhere other than that great unnatural rift in the sky.

‘Your willingness is… appreciated.’ Cassandra nodded, once, decisively. She reached out a hand, pulling the mage to her feet once more. Evelyn nodded her thanks and shivered. She had only her thin enchanter’s robes to keep out the cold. Her coat was missing, taken or lost somewhere on the mountainside. She was grateful when they began walking again. She did her best to keep her eyes averted from the folk they passed; soldiers in heavy plate armor, scouts in light leather, merchants in stained furs… all were staring at her, their expressions twisted somewhere between fear and loathing. Evelyn did her best to ignore them, walking with her head high and her jaw set, trying to mask the anxiety coiling in the pit of her stomach. As a mage, she’d been subject to similar looks before. That didn’t make them any less hurtful; but it did make them easier to bear.

‘They have decided your guilt. They need it,’ said the Seeker as they walked, as though she was reading Evelyn’s thoughts. ‘The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.’ They strode through the camp, following the narrow rocky path that led into the mountains.

‘Divine Justinia is dead?’ Evelyn asked hollowly. A leaden weight seemed to settle in the pit of her stomach. ‘That’s why we came to the Conclave,’ she added. ‘My people, fellow mages, the senior enchanters from my Circle… we wanted peace, not war with the Templars. We thought…’

‘It was our best hope for an end to the fighting,’ nodded Cassandra. ‘She brought the leaders of both sides together… and now they are dead.’ They strode on, through another set of double doors, which opened out onto a wide, snow-covered bridge. Cassandra shook her head. ‘When we are hurt, we lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed.’

Cassandra slowed to a halt, pulling a knife from her belt. Evelyn stepped back, fear spiking in her gut. But the Seeker only reached out and cut away her bonds, freeing the mage’s hands. She rubbed her wrists gratefully, wincing as the feeling began to return to her fingers.

‘There will be a trial. I can promise no more.’ Cassandra scowled. ‘Come. It is not far.’

Evelyn hesitated. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,’ Cassandra replied. ‘Open the gates!’ she added, calling to the guards. ‘We are heading into the valley!’

It was a short walk from the bridge, though not a pleasant one. The winding mountain paths were lined with reminders of what must have been a devastating explosion: burning carts, abandoned possessions, and charred corpses. Evelyn’s stomach heaved at the sight. All the while, the Breach flickered and glowed overhead; until without warning there came another flash, like green lightning forking down into the lands below. In response, Evelyn’s mark crackled and blazed. She was forced to her knees again from the pain. The breath hissed between her teeth. She leant willingly on Cassandra’s arm, as the wiry Seeker helped her up.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, gritting her teeth against the agony.

‘The pulses are coming faster now,’ replied Cassandra, standing before her, and placing a hand on either shoulder to steady her. Evelyn looked up, into the Seeker’s sharp-boned face, at the woman accustomed to a life of action. It may have been her imagination; but Cassandra’s expression seemed softer than before. Something like pity flickered momentarily in those dark eyes, before she turned and led Evelyn onwards.

‘We must be swift. The larger the breach grows, the more rifts appear, and the more demons we face,’ she said over her shoulder.

‘How _did_ I survive the blast?’ wondered Evelyn aloud. Seeing the Breach for the first time, trying to understand the scale of the explosion that had caused such a thing… it would have been difficult for anyone to comprehend, let alone a sheltered young mage.

‘They say that you stepped out of a rift,’ replied Cassandra. ‘Then fell unconscious. They also say that a woman was seen in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.’ The Seeker sighed. ‘Everything further down the valley was laid waste. Including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you will see soon enough.’

They continued in silence, trotting along the narrow paths, until they reached another set of gates that led to a stone bridge further down the valley. Cassandra began to lead her across, but they’d barely made it halfway when another crackling spire of light leapt down from the Breach, striking the ground before their feet. The bridge collapsed. Evelyn yelled in shock as the stones beneath her crumbled, sending her and the Seeker plummeting down onto the iced-up river below.

‘Thank the Maker that water’s frozen,’ muttered Evelyn dazedly, pushing her hair out of her eyes and struggling to regain her feet on the slippery ice. ‘It’d be a shame to come all this way just to drown, after all.’ Beside her, Cassandra grunted; in either annoyance or agreement, Evelyn couldn’t tell. She winced, checking herself over. No broken bones, just bruises by the feel of it. Beside her, the Seeker was hauling herself upright too. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak another spire of green light bloomed before their eyes, spiking into the ice; before fading to reveal the presence of several tall and unpleasantly familiar shapes.

_Demons._

She smiled grimly. Young and sheltered Evelyn might have been; but any mage skilled enough to pass their Harrowing had already been forced to face their own personal demons, and more besides. She flexed her fingers, feeling her mana surge in anticipation.

‘Stay behind me!’ bellowed Cassandra, tugging loose her sword and shield. Without another word she threw herself into the fray, hacking and slashing with furious energy. Evelyn clenched her fists in frustration. She wanted – she _needed_ – to help. But she had no weapon.

Glancing around desperately, it seemed as though her prayers had been answered. Poking out of the rubble from the collapsed bridge was a mage’s staff. Evelyn didn’t even pause to think. An ash wraith was oozing towards her, its talons flexing hungrily in anticipation of easy prey.

Skidding clumsily over the ice, Evelyn dived for the staff. Behind her, she heard the demon’s triumphant hiss as the creature towered over her; only to be frozen mid-grasp by a blast of ice from the staff. Scrambling upright, Evelyn grinned triumphantly. She took a firmer grip on the staff and swung it high, channeling her mana into a single lightning bolt. It struck the defenseless horror dead-on. The demon shattered, leaving nothing behind but a smoking, oily residue and a faint, despairing wail. Beside her, she heard a grunt from Cassandra, as her sword bit deeply into another demon’s unreal flesh. With a venomous hiss, the creature vanished.

‘It’s over,’ Evelyn breathed, wondering how her voice had come out so steady, while inside she felt so shaken. That was the first demon she’d faced outside of the fade, after all. She turned to Cassandra, smiling, feeling just a little proud; only to have the smile falter at the outraged expression on the Seeker’s face. Her sword was still bared, and she leveled it threateningly at Evelyn.

‘Drop your weapon. Now!’ she commanded.

Evelyn groaned internally. Of course, she’d been stupid to think, even for a moment, this woman could have been an ally: even a potential friend among all this strangeness. To Cassandra she was still nothing more than a prisoner, despite her agreement to help; and a mage prisoner at that.

‘All right!’ she said, raising her hand placatingly, trying not to let the hurt show on her face. ‘I’m putting the staff down.’ She slowly lowered it the floor. But to her surprise, the Seeker huffed and shook her head.

‘Wait.’ Cassandra stepped back, sheathing the blade as she did so. ‘Keep it. I cannot protect you. And where we are going, I cannot expect you to be defenseless.’ The grim woman frowned, but it was not a scowl of anger, more one of thoughtfulness. ‘I should remember that you agreed to come willingly.’

She turned her back, and Evelyn hesitated, surprised but gratified, her hand still clenched on the staff’s sturdy haft. After all, if what Cassandra had said were true, they would face more demons as they travelled further down the valley; and she would not like to meet them weaponless. Of course, as a mage, she was never truly defenseless. Still, Evelyn mused as they continued across the frozen river, Cassandra had shown good sense in allowing her to keep the staff. Clearly, the Seeker had some investment in keeping her alive, for now.

They continued on down the valley. Here and there, blooms of green light were flung down by the Breach far above; and wherever they landed, demons sprung up. Side by side, warrior and mage fought their way along the frozen river channel. _We make a surprisingly good team,_ thought Evelyn, as another demon crumpled into nothingness beneath a combination of her freezing spell and a sturdy wallop from Cassandra’s shield.

‘We are close to the camp! You can hear the fighting!’ called Cassandra, as they left the frozen river and ran up a narrow set of icy stairs. ‘That’s where the rift is!’

‘Who is fighting?’ asked Evelyn breathlessly. She was not used to all this running and battling. It was draining her energy far more quickly than she liked to admit.

‘You’ll see soon enough!’ called the Seeker. ‘We must help them!’ She didn’t sound in the least bit out of breath, Evelyn noted skeptically. But then, she reasoned, this sort of dashing about was probably all in a day’s work for a Seeker.

Clambering over a small rise, Evelyn finally saw what was left of the camp. A small group of soldiers were battling yet more demons, beneath a strange green cluster that seemed to hang, shimmering but motionless, in the air above them. _That must be one of these rifts Cassandra spoke of,_ Evelyn realized, as her marked hand pulsed painfully once again. She ignored it, raising her staff high as Cassandra charged into the fray. Fire and ice sprayed from her fingertips. It didn’t take long. The snarling demons were quickly destroyed.

‘Quickly! Before more come through!’ an unfamiliar male voice cried urgently. Before she had a chance to reply, rough hands grabbed Evelyn’s wrist, directing her marked hand towards the glowing green shape. She gasped as green lightning sparked up from her palm, crackling towards the rift. The pain was intense; but just when she thought she could bear it no longer, the light winked out, and the pain vanished. The rift was gone.

‘What did you do?’ she asked, pulling away from the man who held her. He was an elf, she realized immediately. His slender build and long, elegantly pointed ears marked him out from the rest of the soldiers, as did the staff slung on his back. Another mage, she realized; and most likely a wandering apostate, if his garb was anything to go by.

‘I did nothing. The credit is yours,’ he replied quietly, releasing her arm. His pale eyes latched onto hers as he stepped cautiously away. His expression was guarded; though not entirely unfriendly.

‘You mean this?’ Evelyn replied warily, opening her hand palm upwards, offering the mark for him to see. ‘Do you know what it is?’

The elf shrugged. ‘Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand,’ he replied. ‘I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.’

‘Meaning it could also close the Breach itself?’ Cassandra snapped, striding into the conversation.

‘Possibly,’ shrugged the elf. ‘It seems… you may hold the key to our salvation.’

‘Well, that’s good to know!’ drawled a low, gravelly voice. ‘Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.’

The speaker was a male dwarf. Very _definitely_ a male dwarf, Evelyn decided hastily. She felt her mouth open in surprise as her gaze dropped towards the newcomer’s low-cut tunic, which revealed a large expanse of impressively muscled chest and a fine growth of hair. Evelyn blushed, realizing too late that she was gaping. She bit the inside of her cheek in embarrassment. _Goodness me,_ her inner thought supplied weakly. _That’s…that’s a lot of dwarf. More dwarf than I’ve ever seen on display before. Maker’s breath, is he not cold? It’s bloody snowing up here!_

The dwarf nodded amiably in her direction, adjusting the set of the crossbow on his back before closing the distance between them. ‘Varric Tethras,’ he said, by way of introduction. ‘Rogue, storyteller… and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,’ he added, throwing the briefest of winks at Cassandra.

‘Ugh.’ The Seeker scowled and made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. Evelyn raised her eyebrows, surprised at the animosity.

‘Hello,’ she replied warily, searching for something to say. ‘My name’s Evelyn. Umm… nice crossbow you’ve got there.’

‘She’s a beauty, ain’t she?’ The dwarf’s face brightened instantly. ‘Name’s Bianca. She’s a fine piece of work. Unique. Together, she and I can out-shoot anything in Thedas.’

‘Come on,’ interrupted Cassandra impatiently, glaring at Evelyn. ‘We must meet with Leliana at the forward camp.’

‘What a great idea!’ agreed Varric, preparing to leave. ‘Off we go then!’

‘You? Absolutely not,’ snapped Cassandra. ‘Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…’

‘Have you been in the valley recently?’ interrupted the dwarf tartly. ‘It’s hell down there, Seeker. Your soldiers aren’t in control any more. You need me.’ He matched Cassandra’s stare eye to eye, seeming not even vaguely intimidated by the Seeker’s oncoming wrath. For a moment, Evelyn found herself wishing she had his courage.

There was a moment of silence, as the tension rose between them; before Cassandra made another disgusted noise and turned away, stamping her feet impatiently. Varric chuckled to himself.

‘My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,’ added the strange elf still standing beside Evelyn. He dipped his head towards her in friendly greeting. ‘I am pleased to see you still live.’

‘He means, “I kept that mark from killing you while you slept”,’ supplied Varric. Evelyn raised her eyebrows in surprise.

‘Thank you,’ she said, turning to Solas. ‘I’m very grateful.’ She winced as the mark on her hand crackled and burned. ‘I suppose I’m no good to anybody dead,’ she added lightly, her voice trailing off as she noticed Solas’s gaze sliding away from her face and onto her palm, as though drawn by the brightening intensity of the green glow. He turned his head slightly and spoke to Cassandra; but all the while, his eyes were fixed intently on Evelyn’s hand.

‘Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage; but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having that kind of power.’

‘Understood,’ sighed the Seeker. ‘Come. We must get to the forward camp quickly.’ She strode away. Evelyn took a deep breath and followed, falling into step beside Varric.

‘Well… Bianca’s excited,’ shrugged the strange dwarf with a wink.

‘I’m very happy for her,’ replied Evelyn, trying to suppress a smile. ‘At least one of us is.’ She glanced upwards, taking in the vast, icy bulk of the mountains looming ahead of them. ‘Is it far to the forward camp?’ she asked.

‘Don’t know,’ shrugged the dwarf. ‘Guess we’ll find out.’

~

It turned out they only had a small distance to travel into the valley. More demons sprang up in their path; but Evelyn was surprised at the speed that their little group of four was able to take the creatures out. 

‘Are we here? Is this the forward camp?’ she asked, glancing nervously around.

‘Must be,’ replied Varric lazily. ‘There’s the charming Sister Nightingale.’

‘Who?’ Evelyn craned her neck to see who the dwarf was referring to, before locking gazes with a familiar face: the hooded woman, Leliana, who had scared Evelyn even more than Cassandra in the interrogation cell.

‘Aha!’ cried an angry voice. ‘Here they come!’

Leliana was not alone. A skinny, ill-shaven man in Chantry robes was at her side, glaring daggers at the approaching group.

‘You made it,’ said Leliana, nodding in satisfaction. ‘Good.’ She turned to the man beside her. ‘Chancellor Roderick, this is…’

‘I know who _that_ is,’ snarled the cleric. He raised one angry finger, and brandished it at Cassandra. ‘As grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!’

_‘Order_ me?’ Cassandra stepped forwards, bristling with anger. ‘You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!’

‘And you are a thug!’ retorted the Chancellor. ‘But a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!’

‘We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,’ interjected Leliana, darting a swift warning glance towards Cassandra over the man’s head.

‘Justinia is dead!’ snapped the Chancellor. ‘We must elect a replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter!’

Evelyn could not suppress a groan. ‘That could take weeks,’ she said under her breath. ‘We may not even have hours, let alone…’

‘Silence!’ snapped the man. Ugly flecks of spittle sprayed from his lips as he rounded on the exhausted mage, positively snarling with rage. _‘You_ shouldn’t even be here! _You_ are a criminal!’

Evelyn scowled; but a swift glance from Leliana was enough to warn her to hold her silence for now. Insulting the man further would get them nowhere. Instead, she shifted backwards slightly, allowing Cassandra to push forwards. The angry Seeker took up a defensive stance between her and Chancellor Roderick.

‘We can stop this, Chancellor,’ she said sternly. ‘We can stop this before it’s too late.’

‘How?’ The man spread his hands in frustration. ‘You won’t survive to reach the Temple, Seeker. Not even with all your soldiers. It’s crawling with demons out there.’ He shuddered.

‘But we _must_ get to the Temple,’ snapped the Seeker impatiently. ‘The pass through the valley is the quickest route!’

‘But not the safest,’ interjected Leliana, subjecting her to a calculating stare. ‘Our forces can charge as a distraction while we slip through the mountains.’

‘We lost contact with an entire squad on that pass,’ retorted Cassandra. ‘It’s too risky.’

‘Listen to me!’ demanded the Chancellor. ‘You must all abandon this now, before it’s too late! Before more lives are lost!’

The women ignored him. ‘How do you think we should proceed?’ asked Cassandra. It took several seconds before Evelyn realized that the grim woman was talking to her.

‘Why are you asking me? I’m your prisoner; nothing more,’ she replied cautiously, uncertain of where all this was leading.

‘You have the mark,’ replied Leliana brusquely. ‘And it appears we cannot decide among ourselves. So, which option would you choose?’

Evelyn hesitated, flexing her fingers uncertainly, feeling trapped between the two powerful women. ‘I would take the shortest route,’ she admitted finally. ‘I want this over with. I would head straight for the Temple, cutting a path through the valley.’

Cassandra nodded decisively. ‘Then that is what we shall do. Come.’

The small group strode away, heedless of the furious Chancellor’s parting threats. They made short work of the icy path, climbing steadily towards the ruined temple. The Breach still glimmered overhead, casting eerie shadows over the snow. The pass was narrow and slicked with ice, forcing them all into single file for the most part. Cassandra led the way, with Evelyn close behind. Varric trotted after her, cradling Bianca in his arms like a child with a favourite toy; and Solas brought up the rear, his light, loping steps soundless on the frozen ground.

‘I can hear fighting ahead,’ grunted Varric. ‘More demons?’

‘Almost certainly,’ replied Solas. Evelyn nodded, taking a firm grip on her staff as they rounded a sharp bend and found themselves facing a rudimentary barricade. Around it, several armoured soldiers were battling yet more demons; and above their heads another spectral rift glittered in the fading light, tinting the entire scene a sickly greenish hue.

The fight was brief, but bitter. As the last demon vanished with a thin, wailing cry, Evelyn steeled herself to use the mark again, closing the shimmering rift before more horrors slithered through. She flung up her hand, wincing as a deep, wrenching agony pulsed through her palm once more, and green light flashed before her eyes. She gritted her teeth. The pain was, if anything, becoming worse. She gasped aloud as the unfamiliar magic flared wildly, forcing her to her knees once more. Her raised arm was trembling with exertion when, with a final crackling hiss, the rift vanished. She slumped into the snow with relief, allowing her arm to drop, biting her lip and willing the ache to pass.

‘Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift? Well done.’ An unfamiliar voice met her ears as the green glow finally dissipated. Evelyn winced, shaking her head as the snow swirled around her, trying to clear her vision. She glanced up; but her heart dropped in terror at the sight of the imposing male figure reaching towards her, one hand outstretched.

_Oh no,_ her inner thought supplied, as the breath caught in her throat and her mana flared in panic. _Oh, shit. This one’s definitely a Templar._

~

It had been a long, grueling day for Commander Cullen Rutherford. Battling demons amid the snow and ice of the Frostback Mountains was _not_ his idea of a picnic. But after the Conclave exploded, everything had descended into chaos. Everybody, soldiers and civilians alike, had been running terrified. All he’d been able to do was rally as many troops as he could find; sending some to aid Seeker Cassandra down in the valley, while keeping a handful at his side to maintain a defensive position outside the Temple of Sacred Ashes – at least, what little was left of it.

He scowled, rubbing a hand across his brow. He had been receiving confusing messages from the valley below. Firstly, that they had a prisoner: the mage supposedly responsible for the destruction of the Temple; then, that the prisoner was actually aiding them, using a strange mark on her hand to help suppress the awful rifts. He shook his head irritably. He didn’t understand any of it; he didn’t _want_ to understand any of it. All he wanted was for this nightmare to be over.

As if mocking his internal thought, there came a crackling hum of power. A new rift was shimmering into existence even as he watched, almost directly above their barricade. With a triumphant hiss, a rage demon slithered through, its unreal flesh shimmering balefully in the dim light. With a yell, he unsheathed his sword and brought up his shield. Fighting demons, at least, he was trained for.

A moment later, he heard a familiar cry. Cassandra appeared over the ridge, her sword already drawn, ready for battle. Cullen breathed a sigh of relief, deflecting a horror’s claws with his shield, bringing his sword around to swipe at the creature’s vulnerable underbelly. It dissolved with a hissing wail. Brash and bad-tempered as he knew Cassandra to be, there was no denying that she was an exceptional warrior, and a shrewd tactician. She must’ve had good reason to climb all the way up from the valley.

That reason became immediately apparent when, with a burst of green fire and a crackling hum, the fade rift vanished, seemingly imploding in upon itself. Cullen was open-mouthed with amazement for a moment, before pulling himself together. _She’s found a way to close them,_ he thought to himself. _Praised be the Maker, she’s found a way to fix this._

‘Lady Cassandra!’ he called, sheathing his sword and striding towards the familiar wiry figure. ‘You managed to close the rift? Well done.’

Cassandra sighed. ‘Do not congratulate me, Commander. This is the prisoner’s doing, not mine.’ She scowled, stepping aside to reveal a smaller figure kneeling in the snow. It was a young woman, he realized with a start. She was biting her lip, with one hand wrapped around her wrist, trying to steady her glowing hand. He could see at once that she was in terrible pain. He stepped forward instinctively, offering his hand to help her up. But any words he’d planned to say died in his throat when she looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

_Maker’s breath,_ he thought dimly. A pale yet beautiful face was framed by a billowing mass of long golden hair, whipped into disorder by the icy mountain wind. Sky-blue eyes latched onto his; and he felt something in his chest gave a sudden, terrifying lurch. She murmured a quiet _thank you_ as she grasped his hand and rose to her feet.

He swallowed hard, searching for something to say to cover his sudden confusion. ‘I hope they’re right about you,’ he said hurriedly, more sharply than he’d intended. ‘We’ve lost a lot of good people getting you here.’ He regretted the words almost immediately, as the woman flinched away from him and a shadow passed over her delicate features.

‘You’re not the only one hoping that,’ she replied, averting her eyes from his. ‘I’m just trying to help. I don’t understand any of this.’

‘Well, that makes two of us,’ Cullen muttered. ‘I guess we’ll see soon enough.’ He shook himself mentally. _Stop acting the fool,_ he thought furiously. _She’s a prisoner; and a damned mage at that. She might even have caused the Breach in the first place. Get a grip on yourself!_

He pulled away from the woman, stepping towards Cassandra and gesturing over his shoulder. ‘The way to the Temple should be clear.’ He tried to ignore the look Cassandra sent his way. The Seeker was far too good at reading people sometimes. ‘Leliana passed by some minutes ago. She said she’ll meet you there,’ he added.

‘Then we’d best move quickly,’ she replied brusquely. She rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment, a gesture of mutual trust and support that he acknowledged with a dip of his head. ‘We can fix this. Just give us time, Commander.’

‘Maker watch over you,’ he replied; and the words came straight from his heart. ‘All of you,’ he added, gripping his sword tightly as the beautiful mage came to stand beside Cassandra. He stole one last glance at her as he passed; and his heart gave a terrific thump when she met his gaze. There was still fear in her eyes; but as she turned away from him to face the coming danger, it hardened into determination. 

_It’s me,_ Cullen realized with a start. _It’s me she’s afraid of; not the rifts, or the demons._ His heart dropped, plummeting all the way down to his toes, as he fought to keep his expression neutral. _Of course, she’s a mage, she can tell I’m a Templar – an ex-Templar,_ he thought furiously. Why wouldn’t she be scared? Apostate or not, she’s probably been hunted by the Order since the war began. What reason does she have not to fear me – yet? 

As the party stepped forwards, away from him and his soldiers, Cullen drew himself up, straightening his cloak and clenching his jaw. He would stand his ground. He and his soldiers would hold this position, no matter the cost. He would buy Cassandra the time she needed, to get the mage to the rift. If the Seeker was right, and it was their only chance, he would grasp it with both hands. He stooped to help one of his wounded soldiers, hoisting the man’s arm over his shoulder, hoping against hope that the Seeker was right; and that they had a chance. If they failed; if Cassandra’s plan went wrong… they would probably all be dead by the following dawn.


	2. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen and Cassandra pause for a moment to breathe.

The dawn came; and they were still alive. Cullen rubbed his eyes, watching the pale wintry sun climb gradually over the mountains, lighting the snowy peaks with a glimmering golden radiance. Maker be praised, he thought fervently. It had been a difficult night, and he hadn’t slept a wink; but finally, he was able to take a brief moment to rest.

The sky had calmed. Not entirely: the Breach was still there, shimmering balefully above the clouds like a shadow of ill omen. But he remembered with a shudder the rumbled of unexpected thunder that had torn the air in two after Cassandra’s party had entered the Temple, and the terrific flash of green light that had momentarily blinded him. When he’d finally been able to look back up at the Breach, it had changed. It no longer seemed… active. No sudden flashes emerged from its simmering depths, disgorging demons and smaller fade rifts across the mountain pass. It simply sat over the tiny town of Haven: ominous, but silent.

Footsteps sounded on the packed snow behind him. He wheeled around, hand automatically reaching for his sword, only to pause at the sight of Cassandra. The Seeker looked tired – they all did – but still, a hint of triumph quirked her stern mouth into something approaching a smile.

‘We have made a start,’ she said without preamble. ‘Solas confirms that the Breach is stable, for now. But we cannot afford to ignore it.’

‘I agree,’ he replied quietly. ‘Still, it’s an improvement at any rate. We have a chance to catch our breath, and consider our options.’

Beside him, Cassandra gave a snort of impatience. ‘That should not take long. We have very few to consider. The Chantry is paralyzed by indecision; the Templars are still lost in their mad war with the mages…’ she broke off, shaking her head, a glimmer of fresh determination lighting her eyes. ‘It is up to us now, Commander. To forge some order amid this chaos.’

He nodded. ‘Does this mean you still plan to go ahead with the Inquisition?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was steely. ‘It was among Justinia’s final wishes that the Inquisition be reborn; and I will see it done. I have already spoken with Leliana, and she agrees.’ She glanced up at him, a question in her eyes that Cullen knew she did not need to ask.

‘As do I,’ he replied firmly, noticing some of the tension ease from the Seeker’s shoulders at his response. ‘You’re right. Something must be done; and right now, we have the means to act.’ He hesitated, unwilling to ask the question he’d been deliberately avoiding all night. ‘That woman. The mage with the mark on her hand. What happened to her?’

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. ‘She is unconscious, but still alive,’ she replied curtly. ‘The healer is with her.’

‘Good.’ Cullen exhaled a long, slow sigh of relief, feeling some of his own anxiety lift. ‘That’s… good.’ He swallowed awkwardly, avoiding Cassandra’s suddenly piercing stare. ‘After all, she seems to be the only person with any power over these rifts,’ he added hurriedly. ‘If we lose her, we lose the only weapon we currently have against the Breach.’

Cassandra nodded thoughtfully. ‘You are right. It is imperative that she remains with us, for now. I will speak to her when she wakes.’ She shifted impatiently from foot to foot, frowning. ‘I detest waiting,’ she added. ‘But it seems that for now, we must. The healers tell me it may be some time until she awakens fully. A matter of days perhaps. While she recovers, we should begin our own preparations.’

‘Days?’ echoed Cullen uncertainly. A cold hand seemed to clench around his heart at the thought. ‘What did they mean, days? How many?’

The Seeker shrugged. ‘They do not know precisely. But our assault on the Breach… it took much from her. Not just her magic; but her strength too. She fell unconscious in the Temple. We had to carry her back to Haven. No-one can wake her.’ She scowled, glaring over the mountains as though they had personally offended her. ‘I could find out no more. I was… _asked_ to leave the sick tent,’ she added irritably. ‘Apparently my attempts to hurry the healers along were… unwelcome.’

Cullen coughed hastily, attempting to conceal his laughter at the Seeker’s disgruntled expression. ‘I see,’ he replied, careful to keep the mirth from his voice. ‘Well, I am sure the healers know their duties. And so long as she isn’t still in any real peril…’

‘She is not.’ Cassandra’s voice had softened once more. Her expression was pensive. ‘Have you heard what the people are calling her now?’ she added quietly.

‘I have.’ Cullen frowned, rubbing his brow with a tired hand. ‘Do you agree?’ he asked quietly. ‘Do you think she really is the… the Herald of Andraste?’

Cassandra nodded. ‘I do.’

Cullen raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected her to be so forthcoming about the matter; but then, what _had_ he expected? He knew she had faith – more faith than he did these days – but still, it was strange to hear her admit such a thing so bluntly.

‘You are surprised, Commander.’ Cassandra was smiling slightly, resting one hand easily on the pommel of her sword. ‘But I believe now that I was wrong when I accused her of causing the Breach. From the moment she woke, she did everything she could to help us; to help me, even when bound and threatened with execution. And as for the woman seen in the rift behind her… the fact that she seems to hold power over the skies themselves…’ She broke off, shaking her head irritably. ‘I may be wrong. I have been many times in the past.’

Cullen nodded. His throat was suddenly too tight to speak. _The Herald of Andraste,_ he thought to himself. _What if it’s true? What if she really has been… marked, or sent, by Andraste herself? To help heal the skies, and fix the world?_ His stomach clenched anxiously. _If that is true, then may the Maker protect her from the trials that will surely come,_ his inner thought whispered, as a surge of fresh worry swept over him.

‘I must return to the town and speak with our scouts.’ Cassandra had turned away and was already walking back towards the village. ‘We should make Haven the base of our operations for now. Until a more suitable place can be found. And you, Commander, should try and get some sleep.’

‘Of course.’ Cullen raised one hand in farewell, trying to ignore the ache that even that small gesture sent through his tired bones. He knew he should head back to the barracks and get his head down for a few hours at least. He’d be good for nothing otherwise. He turned away, casting one last glance at the rising sun before following Cassandra’s footprints in the new-fallen snow. _Perhaps I should find out where the mage, the… Herald… is being kept,_ he thought wearily. _Just in case of danger, or an emergency…_ He paused, frowning for an instant. ‘Maker’s breath,’ he muttered to himself. ‘I don’t even know her name.’

He picked up his pace, striding briskly through Haven, ignoring the stares directed at him by the few bewildered townsfolk still awake. _Sleep first,_ he told himself sternly. There was no sense in pushing his exhausted body any further. Not when there was so much at stake. Besides, it would give Leliana time to do what she did best: gathering information. Right now, rest was what he needed most.

He settled into his narrow bunk with a groan, too tired to do more than shrug off his armor. He drew the thin blanket up to his chin, praying that he’d be too exhausted to dream, even as he felt sweet sleep enfolding him in a warm, velvet embrace.

The fade was kind to him that night. No nightmares swam up from the depths to plague his thoughts; no horrors from his past emerged to trouble his fitful slumber. There was only peace, and darkness, coupled with a gentle murmur like the wind among tall grasses, and the faint memory of a pair of beautiful sky-blue eyes.


	3. The Inquisition is Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Inquisition as we know it is formed.

When Evelyn awoke, it was in darkness.

Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the gloom. She was lying on a bed in a small wooden hut, lit by one solitary candle. Shadows flickered, on the walls and across the floor as she pushed herself upright, trying to stifle a groan as her muscles twinged in protest.

 _Oh, Maker,_ her internal thought grumbled. _What happened this time? Where am I now?_

Turning, she spotted the source of the noise that had awoken her. A young elf girl had entered the room, carrying a stack of carefully folded laundry. But when she noticed Evelyn was sitting up, she dropped the whole lot with a startled cry.

‘I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!’ she babbled, backing slowly away.

‘Don’t worry, I only just woke up,’ mumbled Evelyn, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and peering at the elf in confusion. ‘What’s happening? Are you all right?’

But the elf kept backing away. She twisted her hands together nervously before dropping to her knees and touching her head to the floor. ‘I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing,’ she stuttered. ‘I am but a humble servant.’

‘What?’ Evelyn shook her head, bewildered. ‘Please, stand up. It’s all right, I just want to know where I am!’

‘You are back in Haven, my Lady,’ replied the elf, still kneeling. ‘They say you saved us! That the breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand!’

Evelyn’s head jerked upwards in surprise. She lifted her hand and examined it. The elf was right. Her mark had changed. It still crackled faintly with the promise of power, but it felt… safer. More contained; and less like something that was ready to tear the world in two. The pain had lessened, too.

‘It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days,’ added the elf, glancing up from her prone position.

‘Three days?’ repeated Evelyn. ‘I slept that long?’

‘You were sick, your Worship,’ the elf replied nervously. ‘The healers tended you, after they brought you back from the Temple.’ She slowly raised herself to her feet, backing towards the door. ‘Lady Cassandra wanted to know when you woke,’ she stuttered nervously. ‘She said, at once.’

‘Right. Do you know where she is?’ asked Evelyn, trying to keep her tone gentle so as not to upset the poor girl further.

‘In the Chantry,’ replied the elf, hovering in the door. ‘With the Lord Chancellor. At once, she said!’ With that, she turned and bolted for the door, leaving Evelyn to shake her head in bewilderment. Why the girl had appeared so frightened, she had no idea. But she had been right on one account. She should go and speak with Cassandra. She seemed to be the only person who could tell her what in Andraste’s name was going on.

Yawning widely, Evelyn pulled herself off the bed and stretched. She ran a tentative hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers snagged almost immediately. ‘Fuck,’ she swore under her breath, peering into the small cracked mirror on the wall. Her hair was a fright. She combed it through with her fingers as best she could, tugging out the worst of the knots, trying to smooth the waist-length blonde tangle into a half-decent braid. As she worked, she wrinkled her brow in faint irritation. A headache was pulsing just behind her eyes, and her reflection in the mirror looked pale and wan from lack of sleep. _That really doesn’t seem fair,_ she thought, attempting to straighten her clothes. _Not when I’ve been sleeping for three whole days already._

Finally, she was done. Feeling a little more presentable, and approximately human, Evelyn stepped out of the hut. The icy air hit her like a physical blast. Haven was a small town set high in the Frostbacks; and as such, snow and ice lay thickly on the narrow paths. But despite this, the place seemed to be humming with activity. Elves and humans alike scurried back and forth; all busy, all chattering. She braced herself before stepping out, glancing left and right before spotting the imposing Chantry building set at the top of the town.

 _That must be where Cassandra is,_ she thought, heading towards it. She kept her eyes fixed on her target, trying to ignore both the wind’s biting chill, and the muted whispers that seemed to follow her as she walked. She was glad to finally reach the Chantry’s doors, pushing them wide and heading into the welcome warmth within.

It was far quieter inside the building. Evelyn walked more easily, glancing from side to side, hoping Cassandra wouldn’t be too difficult to find. She needn’t have worried. Within moments, she heard the Seeker’s blunt tones coming from a room at the far end of the hall. She seemed to be arguing with somebody. Evelyn grimaced, feeling a momentary stab of pity for whoever had brought Cassandra’s wrath upon them. That woman was a force to be reckoned with. Nervous, worried that she’d be interrupting something important, Evelyn rapped gently on the door, hesitating before pushing it wide.

‘Chain her!’ was the first cry that met her ears. She raised a single indignant eyebrow, repressing the instinct to summon a defensive magical barrier. But it was only the angry Chancellor from the mountain pass. He was trying to push past the immovable figure of Cassandra, brandishing a single accusatory finger. ‘I want her prepared for travel to the Capital for trial!’ he continued, drawing himself up and glowering. Behind him, Leliana rolled her eyes.

 _Oh,_ Evelyn’s inner thought supplied. _So that’s who Cassandra was shouting at. Well, he seems to deserve it at least, the pompous buffoon._

‘Disregard that,’ Cassandra snapped at the door guards, who had taken one pace forward. ‘And leave us,’ she added, her voice deepening in warning. The soldiers took one look at the angry Seeker and saluted, backing hurriedly away.

‘You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,’ grumbled the Chancellor, deflating.

‘The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it,’ retorted Cassandra. She glanced towards Evelyn. ‘We will need you too, before this is over. I had intended to come and speak with you before, but you were not yet recovered.’ She ran a critical eye over the young mage standing before her. ‘How are you now?’ she added bluntly. ‘Should I send for a healer?’

Evelyn smiled faintly. ‘I’m all right, I think,’ she replied. The Seeker’s glare was still stern, but there was a hint of warmth around her eyes that had not been there before. ‘I could use a decent meal,’ she added, as her stomach growled in agreement. ‘But aside from that, and a headache, I’m probably as good as I’m going to get.’ She drew a deep breath, steeling herself. ‘And… I’m ready to help. If I can. I mean, if you still need me, and this… thing.’ She raised her hand. The mark on her palm hummed softly as though in agreement, emitting a faint greenish glow. It was almost pretty, if you forgot where it had come from.

‘You are certain?’ Leliana’s soft, lilting voice captured Evelyn’s attention. The hooded woman was watching her carefully, a calculating expression in her eyes. ‘We had intended to ask for your help. I did not expect you to offer it so readily.’

‘Ask for her…? Surely you cannot be serious?’ blustered the Chancellor. ‘This woman is an apostate, a criminal! Probably a maleficar, too!’

Evelyn nodded, meeting Leliana’s gaze with a confidence she did not feel. ‘Yes, I will help. After all, I have nowhere else to go. And this doesn’t exactly seem like a problem that will be solved by walking away.’ She decided to utterly ignore the spluttering Chancellor, focusing her attention on the red-haired woman before her. ‘But… we didn’t manage to seal the Breach before,’ she added. ‘I don’t know exactly what more I can do.’

‘That remains to be seen.’ Leliana dipped her head in acknowledgement of Evelyn’s words, before turning her icy gaze back to the protesting cleric. ‘Have a care, Chancellor,’ she said, interrupting the man’s angry tirade. Her voice was soft, but laden with menace. ‘The Breach is not the only threat we face. Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone the Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.’

‘I…? I am a suspect?’ stuttered the Chancellor indignantly.

‘You,’ snapped Leliana, her voice sharp as a dagger. ‘And many others.’

‘But not… the prisoner?’ The outraged cleric shot a venomous glance in Evelyn’s direction, which she chose to ignore. _A good thing I grew up amongst nobles,_ she thought to herself. _Thinly veiled insults and threats used to be all in a day’s work._ She watched the small man grow more and more flustered, all the while maintaining her expression of aloof disdain.

‘I heard the voices in the Temple. The Divine called to her for help,’ Cassandra was saying, her voice rising over Chancellor Roderick’s faltering protests. ‘It was providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour. I believe her story, Chancellor. And _you_ are trying my patience.’

‘These are not matters for you to decide!’ the angry Chancellor protested. ‘Left and Right Hand of the Divine you might be, but these are matters far above…’

He broke off as Cassandra slammed a heavy metal-bound tome on the table. ‘You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.’ She stalked towards the cleric, driving him from the room as her words hammered him backwards like blows. ‘We will close the Breach. We will find those responsible. And we will restore order. With, or without your approval.’

The cleric opened his mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it, and snapped it tightly closed again. Scowling, he left the room. The door slammed behind him.

‘Such a charming man,’ murmured Evelyn, catching Leliana’s eye.

‘Ignore Chancellor Roderick,’ she replied, a hint of a smile in her voice. ‘Let him bluster all he wants. We will deal with the Chantry representatives later. For now, we have more important things to do. We must rebuild the Inquisition of old, according to the Divine’s directive. We must find those willing to stand against the chaos.’

‘We must act,’ nodded Cassandra. ‘With you at our side,’ she added, turning back to Evelyn. ‘Somehow, you are at the center of all of this. What that means, we do not yet know. But will you stand with us?’

‘I will,’ replied Evelyn. She swallowed hard, pushing her nerves away and looking Cassandra directly in the eye. ‘I don’t know exactly what I can do to help but… I’ll try. For what it’s worth, I’m with you.’ _I’d also be mad to turn down the only person in Thedas who doesn’t think I’m a criminal,_ she thought silently. _I need you, Cassandra, just as much as you need me._

‘That is all we ask,’ replied Leliana, her gaze softening fractionally. ‘That you try. It is all any of us may do.’

Cassandra stepped forward. ‘Help us fix this, before it’s too late.’ She proffered one sturdy hand: a gesture of comradeship that Evelyn did not expect. Warmth bloomed in her chest as she reached out and took it. The Seeker’s fingers were hard and strong, just like the rest of her. But something like a smile crept over Cassandra’s stern features as they shook hands across the table, and Evelyn was unable to prevent herself from returning it.

‘Let us begin,’ she said.

~

Preparations were made. Orders were given. Evelyn stood on the sidelines and watched as Leliana and Cassandra coordinated their people. Announcements were readied, and banners were hung to announce the new Inquisition to the masses. She watched as raven messengers winged overhead, wondering where they were going.

Finally, all was ready. She strode beside Cassandra along the stiff ranks of the Inquisition soldiers, all newly outfitted with uniforms and matching insignia. She held her head high as they saluted, swallowing hard as they approached the Chantry threshold to make the announcement. Leliana was waiting for them, still hooded despite the sun, standing beside another woman Evelyn did not know, and a man she recognized as the Templar from the mountain pass.

 _Maker’s breath, what’s he doing here?_ her inner thought grumbled. She was forced to narrow her eyes as the late noon sun glittered blindingly off his highly polished armor. A spike of panic rose in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it down determinedly, catching his eye as she climbed up the steps. He nodded solemnly towards her, as one professional would to another. A tingle ran down her spine as she returned the nod, trying hard to keep her expression neutral. _Such a shame he’s a Templar,_ her treacherous inner thought whispered. _He really is very handsome. I wonder what his name is?_

She tried to ignore both him and her wandering thoughts, turning her back once they reached the top. Rank upon rank of soldiers stared up at them, stiffly formal as the official banner of the Inquisition was unfurled. _So it begins,_ she thought, watching it flutter in the icy wind. _This is where the real work starts._


	4. Small Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evelyn meets the Inquisition's Spymaster, Ambassador, and the Commander of its armed forces.

She was standing in a large, open room. The war room, Cassandra had called it; because, like it or not, they were at war. On the table in the center was spread a detailed map of Thedas, with various pins and symbols marked upon it. But it wasn’t the map that was drawing Evelyn’s immediate attention.

‘You’ve already met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s armed forces,’ Cassandra was saying. Evelyn looked into the face of the man she’d met before the Temple; and felt her heart give a sudden, but not unpleasant lurch as warmth flooded her cheeks. _Oh, Maker,_ she thought nervously. He wasn’t just good looking. He was _gorgeous._ The flickering candlelight caught and shimmered in the strands of his swept-back golden hair, and his eyes were a rich, warm honey-brown that sent another tingle down Evelyn’s spine. A smattering of stubble served only to enhance a strong chin and bold, sensitive mouth, crossed at one corner by an old, well-healed scar.

‘It was only for a moment, in the field. I’m glad to see you survived,’ he said. The scarred corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, and a swarm of butterflies sprang to life in Evelyn’s stomach. _Oh no, he’s even prettier when he smiles,_ she thought desperately.

‘I command our soldiers, such as they are,’ he continued. ‘We lost many good men and women in the valley; and I fear we may lose more before this is through.’ His voice was deep and stern, but gentle, rolling over her in warm waves, with a strong but refined Ferelden accent. Evelyn swallowed hard, suddenly shy, feeling a fresh blush bloom on her cheeks.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, hoping she didn’t sound nearly as breathless as she felt. ‘It’s good to meet you properly, Commander. There were a few too many demons around for formal introductions the other day.’

The Commander chuckled softly. ‘This certainly is an improvement, I’ll admit.’

‘And this is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat,’ Cassandra continued, forcing Evelyn to pull her gaze away from the handsome soldier and greet the woman she had not yet met. Josephine was smiling politely.

‘A pleasure to meet you at last, Lady Trevelyan,’ she said. ‘I have heard many good things about you already.’ Her voice was warm and gentle, with a strong Antivan accent. Her long dark hair was elegantly braided back into a low bun.

‘Likewise,’ replied Evelyn, unable to stop herself returning the ambassador’s smile, immediately feeling a kinship with the darker-skinned woman.

‘And of course, you already know Sister Leliana,’ added Cassandra. The hooded woman dipped her head in acknowledgement.

‘My position here involves a degree of…’ she began.

‘She is our spymaster,’ interrupted Cassandra bluntly, ignoring Leliana’s huff of annoyance.

‘Yes.’ She sniffed. ‘Tactfully put as ever, Cassandra.’

‘There is no need to tiptoe around it,’ replied Cassandra. ‘If Lady Trevelyan is to help us, she must know what our positions are. It is the only way she will find a role for herself amongst us.’

‘Thank you. It’s good to meet you all,’ said Evelyn. ‘Although I must say, nobody has called me Ser or Lady in a long while. I left all noble titles behind when I joined the Circle at Ostwick.’

‘You may have to get used to it again,’ replied Cassandra brusquely. ‘You are a part of the Inquisition now. The people will be looking for an authoritative voice to guide them through the chaos. We must be that voice.’

Evelyn nodded. ‘So you do still have need of me, then?’ She tried not to let her gaze drift back to Commander Cullen. She could still feel him staring at her.

‘We do,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Have need of you, that is.’ He raised one hand, sweeping it up and over the back of his neck. ‘Cassandra assures me you are vital to her plans.’

‘Then I will be happy to help wherever I can,’ she replied, finally turning to meet the Commander’s gaze, feeling something strange and unfamiliar rising inside her as she did. _Templar, Templar, don’t let his beauty blind you,_ her thoughts buzzed insistently. _He might still be dangerous, for all that he is smiling now._ It was hard, ignoring the warmth in that amber stare; but she did.

‘Your mark has power still,’ Cassandra said, leaning forward. ‘It has sealed rifts, but not the Breach. Solas has theorized that, with more power behind it, it could close the Breach itself. For good.’

‘More power?’ asked Evelyn, raising her brows in surprise. ‘I don’t know how I can do that. I gave it everything I had last time; and it still didn’t work.’

‘We know,’ agreed Leliana. ‘Which is why we must approach the rebel mages for help.’

‘I still disagree,’ rumbled Commander Cullen, his face creasing in disapproval. ‘The Templars could serve just as well.’

This was an old argument, Evelyn quickly realized: one they’d already had several times before she arrived. Cassandra sighed impatiently. ‘We need power, Commander,’ she said. ‘Enough magic poured into that mark…’

‘Might destroy us all!’ interrupted Cullen. ‘Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so…’

‘Pure speculation.’ Sister Leliana’s lilting voice cut across his speech.

‘I was a Templar,’ retorted the Commander, laying one hand defensively on the hilt of his sword; a reflexive action, noticed Evelyn. She wondered if he even realized he was doing it. _Wait, what?_ Her inner thought interrupted. _What did he mean, ‘was’ a Templar?_

‘I know what they’re capable of,’ Cullen continued, seemingly oblivious to Evelyn’s surprise at his admission. ‘Their magic-suppressing abilities might be precisely what we need to contain the Breach; allowing Lady Trevelyan to use her mark to close it.’

Cassandra sighed impatiently. ‘We could argue this until the sky falls on our heads; and still be no closer to a decision,’ she snapped. ‘Do you have any thoughts on the matter?’ she added, turning her glare towards Evelyn.

She shrugged. ‘If it were up to me, I’d seek aid from the mages,’ she replied. ‘I may still have friends in the mage collective that might be willing to help. Besides, since the war began, I’m technically an apostate. Surely the Templars would just kill me on sight, or drag me away to be made Tranquil?’

‘We wouldn’t let that happen,’ replied Cullen immediately. He leaned forwards on the table, looking into her eyes, as if to try and convey the depth of his sincerity. She felt her heart give another lurch. ‘You’re under the protection of the Inquisition now,’ he added. ‘Nobody will be taking you anywhere against your will.’

‘That is correct,’ affirmed Cassandra. ‘Besides, they must see as well as we do, that your mark is the only thing we have that’s capable of closing the rifts.’

‘Unfortunately, there is one small snag in this plan,’ interrupted Josephine. ‘Neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically,’ she added, nodding apologetically at Evelyn.

‘That was only to be expected, I suppose,’ she replied, smiling wryly at the pretty Antivan.

‘Indeed,’ affirmed the Ambassador. ‘Some are calling you – a mage – the Herald of Andraste. This frightens the Chantry. So, they react. They do not like anything they cannot understand. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and named us heretics for harboring you.’

Cassandra sniffed disapprovingly. ‘Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.’

‘Him?’ asked Evelyn, surprised. ‘That angry little man with the ferret face?’ She ignored the sudden apparent coughing fit coming from Commander Cullen. ‘I didn’t know he had quite so much influence,’ she added.

Ambassador Montilyet nodded. ‘It limits our options. Approaching either the mages or the Templars for help is currently out of the question.’

‘Wait,’ replied Evelyn slowly. ‘The Herald of Andraste? Why do they call me that? I heard some of the soldiers saying it as I came in, but I assumed they were speaking of somebody else.’

‘Rumour has spread,’ replied Cassandra. ‘About how you were able to calm the Breach; how you survived the explosion; and about the woman that was seen in the rift behind you. Some believe that this was Andraste.’

‘And, while we have not actively encouraged these rumours, we have made no effort to suppress them.’ Lelinana smiled. ‘You can see now why the Chantry is furious with us. With you.’

‘They feel threatened,’ Evelyn realized. ‘So they’re lashing out.’

‘Precisely.’

Evelyn hesitated, closing her mouth and nodding. She allowed the rest of the conversation to wash over her, trying to drown out the rising panic in her mind. _Bloody hell,_ she thought desperately. _So that’s why everybody’s been staring at me so weirdly. I’m not sure what was worse: being thought of as a criminal, or this. They can’t really believe I’m some sort of divine messenger for Andraste, can they? I’m a mage for heaven’s sakes! What on earth do they expect me to do?_

The meeting soon ended. Evelyn found herself at a loose end, wandering aimlessly through the town, trying not to flinch beneath the wind’s biting cold. Everywhere she went, whispers followed. She walked with a slow, measured pace, trying to look confident. In reality, panic was beginning to set in. She was supposed to set out for the Hinterlands near Redcliffe the following day, and she still had little to no idea what she’d find there. One small comfort was that Cassandra would be at her side at least.

She knew there were things she should do and preparations to make. But at that moment, she could think of nothing. Her mind was blank. Her feet took her back to the small hut where she’d awoken, which Josephine had reserved for her personal use. She felt a stab of gratitude towards the thoughtful Antivan ambassador as she stepped inside, noticing that her pack had been somehow salvaged from the Conclave and placed beside the bed, before closing the door and leaning on it.

What she really needed was a moment of calm in which to breathe; and some time away from the whispering scrutiny of Haven’s folk, who seemed to have nothing better to do than stare at her as she walked. She sighed deeply, collapsing onto the narrow bed and burying her face in her hands. It already felt like a long, long day; and it had barely even begun.

</


	5. Tea and Sympathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen explains a little of what it means to be an ex-Templar.

Commander Cullen stalked through Haven’s training grounds, one hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword. He moved with purpose, his footfalls firm, his jaw clenched. If these forces were going to respect his leadership, then they had to see him as a figure filled with confidence and authority. He couldn’t allow anybody even the tiniest glimpse of the inner turmoil that bubbled within his chest.

The Herald had left, ostensibly to make preparations for travel to Redcliffe; but he’d recognized the anxiety in her eyes. She needed time to step away, to digest everything that had been thrust upon her over such a short space of time. He didn’t blame her. He knew he’d most likely feel the same. Which was why, when he’d spotted her trudging through Haven’s snowy grounds, he’d followed. Not obviously, and not with any real aim in mind, other than simply keeping an eye on her. Haven was safe from demons for now – safe as anywhere was likely to be, anyway – but that didn’t mean it couldn’t hold dangers of another kind, especially for an isolated young woman.

Now, he was hovering on the edge of the training grounds, close enough to the hut she’d entered to keep it observed, but not so close as to be conspicuous. He kept his eyes sweeping back and forth over the new recruits they had picked up, occasionally throwing out pieces of advice and encouragement, trying to ignore the thoughts that still pestered him.

His mind cast itself back to the day before, while the Herald had still been asleep and under the care of the healers. He hadn’t been to see her. But he had arrived at the war table hoping to hear what information Leliana had gathered so far; and had not been disappointed.

‘I’ve had some replies to my messages,’ she slender spymaster had announced, once they had gathered in the light of the flickering candles. ‘I have information on the Herald. Her family, her history…’

Cullen snorted. ‘Her name would be a start.’

‘Her name is Evelyn,’ interrupted Cassandra impatiently. ‘Lady Evelyn of House Trevelyan. This much we already know.’

‘Well I didn’t,’ retorted Cullen. ‘Our introduction was very brief; as I’m sure you can remember.’

‘Indeed,’ nodded Leliana. ‘I doubt I made the best first impression either. But it matters little. If we are to rely on her to close the Breach, we must know how likely it is that she will help us willingly. Otherwise, certain steps will have to be taken.’

Cullen sighed. He did not need to ask what sort of _steps_ the Nightingale was speaking of. ‘Very well,’ he said, hoping that such measures would not be necessary. ‘What have you discovered?’

‘She is the only daughter of House Trevelyan, an ancient noble line,’ supplied Ambassador Montilyet, checking off her notes with a quill. ‘She is the youngest of three children. Her father was Ser Allen: a Ferelden soldier of low birth but good reputation. Her mother was of course the infamous Lady Demelza Trevelyan. You have heard of her, yes?’

Cullen shrugged uncomfortably. ‘The name is familiar.’ He was not good at remembering all the complex interconnections between the noble houses of Thedas. That was what Josephine and Leliana were best at, after all.

‘Lady Demelza had a reputation as a famous beauty in her time,’ continued the Ambassador. ‘Dozens of people vied for her hand. There were many duels fought in her name, between lords and the sons of lords. But in the end, she married a commoner; a soldier. It was said that it was his brave heart that won the Lady’s favour.’ Josephine smiled wistfully. ‘It was all very romantic.’

Leliana raised an eyebrow skeptically. ‘Romantic? Really, Josie?’

The ambassador shrugged, unrepentant. ‘Call it what you like; it was the talk of the Free Marches, for a time. I also know that when young Evelyn was born, it was reported by many that she had inherited her mother’s beauty. Rumour has it that she received seventeen proposals of marriage before she was thirteen.’

‘What?’ snapped Cullen. ‘That’s despicable!’

‘Actually, it’s quite common for sons and daughters of a noble house to be pledged young,’ replied Josephine soothingly. ‘It is a way of strengthening inter-house alliances. She would not have actually wed until she was of age, naturally.’ She sighed, checking her notes. ‘Although it is perhaps… unusual, to receive quite so many offers.’

‘The fact that she does seem to have inherited her mother’s famous beauty no doubt helped matters,’ mused Leliana. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Commander?’ she added coyly, flashing Cullen a wicked grin from beneath her cowl. He felt himself beginning to blush.

‘I, uh… I’m sure I really couldn’t say, Sister.’ He coughed awkwardly, trying to disguise his discomfort. Beside him, Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

‘I believe there is more to her than many might see,’ the irate Nevarran snapped. ‘I saw what happened at the Breach. I also saw the way you stared at her, Commander. Be wary. I believe she will help us willingly, so long as we don’t try to coerce her. She was frightened, yes; but still she fought, and did all I asked of her without complaint. Somewhere within her spine lies steel. You should consider your attitude carefully.’

‘I wasn’t…’ Cullen protested. ‘All I meant was…’ he trailed off with a frustrated sigh, angry at his own weakness, as Leliana continued.

‘From what I understand, her magical abilities manifested late,’ the spymaster mused, rifling through her notes. ‘In most mages, it arrives in the early years, before puberty. Our Lady Trevelyan was fourteen when it came upon her. It was a great shock to all the family. She was bundled off to the Circle at Ostwick; and there she remained. Until recent events, of course.’

Cullen frowned thoughtfully, allowing the women to continue their discussion. A latecomer to magic? It certainly hadn’t seemed like it, from what he could recall of their brief encounter. He remembered the cries of the soldiers, the flashing of swords, the yell of defiance that had heralded Cassandra’s presence; and then the unlooked-for magic that had flared without warning, icing demons into immovability all around him. From what he’d seen, the spells she’d used had been standard Circle-taught ones, but they’d been dealt out with care and precision. She had excellent control over her abilities; that much had been obvious.

Now, standing in the training grounds, eyeing the door to her hut, he wondered if he should go and check on her. After all, it was never a good thing to be alone in a strange place; unsure of whom you could trust. He knew that as well as anyone. Feelings of vulnerability and isolation could so easily turn to anger.

Turning to his lieutenant, he gave him a swift nod, and instructions to continue the men’s sword training. Some of them were fairly green recruits, after all. It would pay to be on the safe side. He’d rather have them over-trained than inexperienced: but that wasn’t to say he couldn’t delegate when appropriate. So, after stepping back for a moment, he turned on his heel and walked, not speedily but with a confidence he did not feel, towards the shack where the Herald had disappeared.

Pausing at her door, he hesitated before knocking. For some reason, he badly wanted to see her again. He felt the need clawing inside him, scratching to get out. But perhaps it was a bad idea. Perhaps she would need more time, to rest and regain her strength, after her collapse into unconsciousness beneath the Breach. Perhaps…

He shook himself, annoyed. _Stop behaving like a dithering child,_ he told himself firmly. Squaring his shoulders, he raised one hand and rapped his knuckles on the wood, harder than he meant to. He heard movement from within; and before he could have a chance to retreat, to change his mind, the door swung open.

‘Who is it?’ she said, peering through the gap. Her expression changed when she recognized him, becoming somehow brighter, but more guarded. ‘Commander Cullen!’ she greeted him politely, pulling the door wide. He hesitated, his gut suddenly churning. _This was a stupid idea,_ he realized too late.

‘Commander? Is something the matter?’ she asked, when he said nothing. Her voice was tinged with anxiety.

‘No, nothing’s wrong,’ he said hastily. He swallowed hard, determined to keep his voice level. ‘I wanted to stop by and see how you were holding up,’ he added carefully. ‘An awful lot’s been happening lately, and you’ve been right in the center of it. Are you all right?’

‘Oh!’ Her anxiety vanished, flickering into a look of surprise. ‘That’s… very kind of you. Would you care to come inside?’ she added, stepping back. ‘I can only offer you tea, I’m afraid; but it’s better than nothing.’

‘Please, don’t trouble yourself.’ Cullen ducked inside the wooden hut, already feeling the sweat on his palms beneath his heavy leather gauntlets. ‘I don’t want to impose. You must have other things to do.’

‘It’s no trouble. I was just going to make myself a cup.’ She flashed him a small but brilliant smile before kneeling to rummage in the open pack beside the bed. He couldn’t help but notice she’d changed out of the tattered clothing she’d been wearing since attempting to close the Breach. In place of the bloodied mage robes was a cozy-looking tunic, spun from some kind of soft, expensive-looking grey wool, with a hint of blue embroidery around the hem. Beneath that she wore a pair of dark-coloured riding trousers, topped off with knee-high boots in supple brown leather. He swallowed hard. The clothes looked simple, but they were elegantly cut, and had clearly cost money. He didn’t need another reminder that she was technically above his station; but there it was anyway, loud and clear.

‘Do you… always carry tea things with you when you travel?’ he asked, after a moment had passed. She shot him a faintly amused glance over her shoulder as she busied herself filling the pot with water.

‘Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have to,’ she replied. ‘The life of a Circle mage does not usually involve a great deal of travelling, Commander.’

He flushed at that. ‘No, I… suppose it wouldn’t,’ he muttered, internally cursing the inner desire that had driven him here in the first place. He watched her add tea leaves to the pot, twisting her fingers together anxiously when she was done. She was still nervous. Her smile, when she turned to him, was just a little too bright and brittle.

‘Forgive me, Commander,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. And… I understand. Really, I do.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Cullen raised his eyebrows, bewildered. She shrugged lightly, her eyes downcast, avoiding his gaze.

‘Herald of Andraste or not, I’m still a mage outside my Circle without a Templar guard. I understand why you wanted to check up on me.’ She bit her lip. ‘I suppose it was naïve of me to expect to be left alone, even for a little while,’ she added. ‘But you needn’t worry, Commander. I’m not a danger to anybody here.’

‘What?’ Cullen’s heart sank. ‘Is that…? No, Herald, you misunderstand. That’s not why I’m here.’ _Maker’s breath,_ he swore internally. The expression of weary resignation on her face sent a twinge of guilt through his chest.

‘It isn’t?’ she replied, the surprise evident in her tone.

‘No.’ He shook his head firmly.

‘Then…’ she hesitated, gazing anxiously up at him, uncertainty flickering in her wide blue eyes. ‘In that case, may I ask you something, Commander?’

‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘What would you like to know?’

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting over his face, as though searching for confirmation of her fears. ‘You’re a Templar.’ Her words came out all in a rush. ‘I can feel it. At least, you were a Templar. That’s what you said to Cassandra. What does that mean? Are you still a part of the Order? Do you still…’ she swallowed hard, as if she was forcing the words out. ‘Do you still hunt mages?’

‘No,’ he replied immediately. His heart gave a painful twist inside his chest. She might as well have asked: _are you going to hurt me?_ The thought made him sick to his stomach. He hated the idea that she might still be afraid of him. But despite that, Cullen noticed she’d made no move to summon any defensive magic. He’d have felt it if she had: that instinctual, bone-deep tug that had once been so familiar. He cleared his throat, looking at her uncertainly.

‘I… used to serve the Order,’ he continued, measuring his words with care, watching for her reaction. ‘I was Knight-Captain in Kirkwall, for a time. But I left. I… did not agree with what was happening. With the extreme measures that were taken there.’ He hesitated, trying to pick the right words, praying he could dispel some of the fear that lurked in those sky-blue eyes. ‘I do not hunt mages, my lady Herald. I might have done once, a long time ago. But not anymore. I like to think that I am… a different man now. A better one, I hope.’

He sat still as stone, waiting for her reaction. She blinked once, slowly, holding his gaze, as though she was trying to read the truth of his words in his eyes. But then, just as he was wondering if he should say something else, something reassuring, she looked away, loosing a long, slow breath. Her fingers flexed, clasping and unclasping in her lap. But when she looked back up at him, he was surprised to see a small smile on her lips.

‘I believe you,’ she said. The tension seemed to have bled out of her, he noticed. The set of her shoulders had changed, becoming more relaxed; and her smile seemed genuine. ‘Thank you for being so frank with me,’ she added. ‘What with the war and everything…’ she shook her head, as though unsure of what to say. ‘I’ve been on the run ever since my Circle disbanded,’ she added. ‘Since I saw other mages killed by the people I once trusted as guardians. You’ll forgive me for being cautious. My survival has depended upon it these past months.’

He nodded slowly. ‘I understand. And I’m sorry I didn’t make myself clearer before now,’ he replied. ‘I know that can’t have been… I mean, I understand why you needed to ask.’ He hesitated. ‘But I’m not a Templar any longer,’ he added quietly. ‘We’re all part of the Inquisition. You’ve nothing to fear from me.’ He said nothing more, watching as she stretched her hands towards the teakettle; and _now_ he felt it, the familiar hum of magic in the air, just enough to warm the pot until it was steaming.

Neither of them exchanged a word as she poured the tea into a pair of enamel mugs. She offered him one before settling back with a sigh, inhaling the fragrant steam with apparent relief. He was seated on the only chair; she was perched on the edge of her narrow bed. The coverlet was messy, as though she had been lying there before he knocked. He clenched his hands tightly around the cup, uncertain of what to say.

‘It’s… I know these have been difficult times,’ he began tentatively. His heart jumped in surprise as she let loose a quiet laugh. It was the first time he had heard such a sound from her. He found his pulse quickening, and knew he would like to hear it more often.

‘What?’ he asked, amused but baffled as to the cause of her mirth.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said, shaking her head ruefully. ‘Just… here we are, a mage and a Templar – ex-Templar, sorry,’ she corrected herself swiftly. ‘There’s a war still waging out in the world, yet… we’re sitting here drinking tea. You don’t seem afraid of me; and it seems I have no reason to fear you.’ She smiled up at him; a gentle, shy smile that nevertheless set his heart racing.

‘Well, few of the mages I’ve met only use their magic to make tea,’ he ventured, relieved when his words drew another smile from her. She shrugged, seeming half pleased, half embarrassed by his words.

‘I have other abilities, of course,’ she replied, wrapping both hands around the steaming cup. ‘If you’re interested in the technicalities, I’m an elemental caster. Ice is my specialty.’

‘Really?’ Cullen leaned forwards interestedly. ‘When we first met in the mountains… it was you casting beside Cassandra? Before the rift was sealed?’

She nodded. ‘She’s a force to be reckoned with,’ she replied, taking a sip of her tea and pulling a wry face. ‘Cassandra, I mean.’

‘So were you,’ replied Cullen, feeling his neck beginning to flush with embarrassment again, but pressing forward nonetheless. ‘I mean, I remember that fight. We were holding; but we were losing. Until you showed up, anyway.’ He swallowed nervously. ‘I never thanked you,’ he added.

She shrugged, tilting her head away, her smile turning bashful. ‘There was no need. Besides, there were bigger things to worry about. The Breach, for a start.’

‘Nonetheless, I was rude. It wasn’t exactly the finest introduction.’ He shifted awkwardly in his chair, trying to quell the soft but insistent warmth unfurling in his belly. He felt oddly breathless, watching as she reached up to run a hand distractedly through her hair, some of which had pulled loose from the braid to curl lazily around her throat. He swallowed hard. The temptation to reach out was almost overwhelming. He wanted to trace the delicate line of her jaw, to run his thumb over those fragile cheekbones and kiss away the nervous twist of her lips.

‘Commander?’ Evelyn’s voice shook him back to reality. She was looking curiously at him, one eyebrow raised questioningly. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ he replied quickly. ‘Sorry.’ _Maker’s breath, get a grip!_ He thought furiously. _On yourself, not on her!_

‘It’s quite all right,’ she replied. He forced himself to meet her questioning gaze. Clearly, she was oblivious to his internal struggle. ‘You really should try the tea,’ she added with a flicker of mirth. ‘It’s quite good, you know. And it isn’t poisoned.’

‘I, um… yes. I’m sure it is. Isn’t, I mean. Oh, Maker.’ Cullen shook his head ruefully, unable to stop himself from returning her broadening smile. ‘My apologies, Herald. You don’t need to sit here and listen to my nonsense all day. I should leave you in peace. You’ll have a tough time in the Hinterlands tomorrow, if the scout reports are anything to go by. You need to rest.’

His pulse quickened slightly as she laughed and shook her head. ‘Very well, Commander. I’ll let you return to your duties. I’m sure you’ve got a thousand more important things to do than chat to me.’ She put down her cup, fingers twining together nervously once more. ‘But… thank you for stopping by,’ she added. Her voice made something deep in his chest clench excitedly. ‘It was… kind of you, to come and check up on me.’

He nodded uncertainly. ‘It was no trouble, my lady Herald. If you need anything further, please do not hesitate to ask. I’m pleased to see you’re feeling so much better; you had us all worried when you collapsed at the Breach.’

‘Oh!’ She blushed faintly. ‘You don’t have to worry. I’ll be perfectly all right.’ She rose to her feet, tilting her head and smiling wryly. ‘But please, you don’t have to call me _Herald_ all the time. I’m already tired of the title, and I’ve only had it a day.’

‘Very well,’ he replied, heart hammering. ‘By your leave then, Lady Trevelyan.’

She nodded, shifting from one foot to the other. She appeared suddenly nervous again, he noticed. ‘Evelyn,’ she blurted out, before he could ask why. ‘My name’s Evelyn. You could call me that, if you like. When… you know. When we don’t have to be formal.’

He tried to ignore the heat that flushed through him at her words, tracing red-hot fingers across his chest. ‘As you wish,’ he managed to reply. ‘Good luck with your journey tomorrow,’ he added.

‘Thank you,’ she replied. Her blush was quite pronounced now, twin patches of pink blooming over her cheeks, like the petals opening on a rose. He inclined his head towards her respectfully before turning towards the door. The cold air outside struck him like a physical blow; but he was glad of it. He stood still for a moment, allowing the wind to whip up the snow around him.

‘Commander!’ a scout came trotting up to him. Cullen almost jumped out of his skin. ‘Message for you, Ser!’

‘My thanks,’ he said, nodding sternly as the scout scurried off. With slow, deliberate steps he strode away from the small hut, only to pause mid-pace when he realized that he was still holding the mug of tea that she’d offered him. Tentatively, he raised it to his lips and took a single, careful sip.

It wasn’t poisoned. And it really was very good.


	6. The Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evelyn and party encounter bears, clerics, templars and apostates in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.

‘Do you know what I hate?’ Evelyn mused, as her party made their way through the Hinterlands. ‘Bears. I really, really hate bears.’

‘So… that’s why we just killed, what, a dozen of them?’ drawled Varric, as he strolled along beside her. ‘I figured you just had a craving for bear meat, Herald.’

‘Ugh.’ Cassandra made a disgusted noise behind them.

‘What?’ retorted the cheeky dwarf. ‘It’s not so bad, once you’ve salted it, smoked it, hung it for a fortnight, roasted it, cut it into strips, and then dried it. After all that, it doesn’t even taste like bear any more.’

‘I’m curious. What does it taste like?’ asked Solas.

‘Leather,’ chuckled Varric. ‘Smoky, salty leather. But it keeps well. I knew dwarves who used to treat all their meat like that. The drying means it lasts longer for expeditions to the Deep Roads.’

‘Hmm.’ The Herald raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, I dare say we’ve made a dent in the bear population around here, anyway.’ She sighed. ‘Besides, those pelts have to be useful for something. It’s freezing back in Haven. We could make blankets.’

‘An excellent suggestion,’ agreed Solas. ‘We could use the largest pieces for blankets, and the rest as lining or extra trim for clothing.’

‘Oh,’ nodded Evelyn, speaking without thinking. ‘You mean like the fur collar around Commander Cullen’s cloak?’

She paused at the sound of Varric’s chuckle. ‘You noticed that, huh?’

‘Yes. Why shouldn’t I?’ she replied, feeling the blush beginning to creep up on her. ‘It looks warm. Besides, he’s always wearing it!’

‘That he is,’ affirmed Varric. His expression was amiable, but there was no disguising the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. ‘Would do him good to get out of it for a while though. I bet you’d be willing to help him out with that, hmm…?’

‘I – what?’ stuttered Evelyn, mouth gaping for a moment. ‘I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about. You must have me confused with somebody else.’ She stalked on ahead, feeling the blush begin in earnest. Honestly, she didn’t know why Varric was making such a fuss. So what if she happened to remember that the Commander wore a fur collar and cloak over his armor? So what if she had occasionally wondered how soft and warm it would feel, what it’d be like to run her hands through it, across his broad shoulders, up and over his neck, grazing her fingers along his jawline… Wait, what?

_Oh, Maker,_ she groaned internally. _Not again._

She knew it was ridiculous just how often her thoughts had been turning towards the Inquisition’s Commander of late. Despite the brief time she’d known him, there was something about his presence that simply made her want to smile. Perhaps it was the way his eyes seemed to soften when he looked at her, sweet and dark and warm, like honey fresh from the comb. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, striding around Haven with the confidence and assurance that Evelyn knew she was still sorely lacking. Perhaps…

‘We’re here,’ announced Cassandra, breaking in on her thoughts. ‘We are approaching the Crossroads now. Be wary!’

Evelyn nodded, reaching for her staff, and trying to shake the thought of Cullen from her mind. Rebel mages and rogue Templars were still fighting in this area. They all had to be on their guard.

True to expectations, their approach to the Crossroads was fraught with danger. The first time they ran across a fracas, Cassandra had tried parleying with both sides under the banner of the Inquisition; and had received a blast of flame to the face for her trouble. Evelyn had reacted instinctually, bringing up a barrier around the entire party before freezing the aggressor in place with a wave of her hand. But her own blood seemed to freeze in horror as an arrow from Varric shattered the defenseless mage into a thousand pieces.

‘We’re killing them?’ she had gasped, after the brief skirmish was over. ‘We’re actually… we’re killing people now?’

Varric shrugged, replacing Bianca on his broadly muscled shoulder. ‘Beats them killing us,’ he replied. ‘Why? What did you think was going to happen?’

‘I… don’t know.’ Evelyn shivered, clamping a hand across her mouth to stem a sudden wave of nausea. ‘I hoped we could… slip quietly past them, or something.’ She glanced up at Cassandra’s deepening scowl.

‘We have a duty,’ the stern warrior intoned. ‘Are you going to shy away from it now, Herald? After what happened at the Breach, I assumed you would be more capable than this.’

Evelyn shook her head frantically. ‘Those were _demons,’_ she replied, waving her hands, trying to prevent her voice from rising in panic. ‘I’ve no qualms over destroying them. But actual people, it’s just… I’ve never had to…’

She came to a stuttering halt as another wave of nausea hit her, closing her eyes and trying to breathe deeply. When she opened them again, Cassandra’s steely glare had softened.

‘You have never killed before.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘That is… not what I was expecting.’ She knelt in front of Evelyn, who hadn’t even realized she’d sunk to her knees. ‘Here. Take this and drink,’ she added, uncorking a flask and passing it over. ‘It will ease your stomach.’ She watched as the young mage took several small, quick sips. ‘It is not easy, at first,’ she added quietly. ‘Taking another person’s life is never something that should be done lightly, or without just cause. But we do it because we must.’

‘I know. I know. It’s just… Maker forgive me, I hoped I wouldn’t have to.’ Evelyn winced, passing back the flask. ‘You must think me such a fool,’ she added, feeling a surge of bitterness rising inside her like bile.

‘I do not.’ Cassandra straightened up, readjusting her shield on her arm. ‘Nevertheless, we cannot afford to hesitate now. More fights like this one will doubtless await us between here and the Crossroads. If you are not up to the task…’

‘Go easy, Seeker,’ muttered Varric. ‘The kid’s not an old hand at this killing game like you or me. Give her time to adjust.’

‘It’s fine. I’ll be all right. I just… needed a moment.’ Evelyn hauled herself to her feet, swallowing hard before clenching her jaw determinedly. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she repeated, a little louder than before, refusing to wilt beneath Cassandra’s stare.

‘Very well. We shall continue.’ The seeker nodded. ‘But you should stay to the rear, Herald. Mages do not generally belong on the front lines of battle. Pace yourself, and attack from long range. I will endeavor to draw them away from you, if anybody gets too close.’

Evelyn nodded. ‘Thank you. I’m grateful for the advice.’ She took her staff in her hands once again, feeling the polished smoothness of the wood beneath her fingertips, reaching deep into the well of magic within her, deeper and deeper until her very bones seemed to thrum and crackle with power. ‘Let’s go,’ she added, tightening her grip. ‘If we’re going to do this, then let’s get it over with.’

~

The Crossroads, when they finally reached them, were a mess. The dead and dying littered the ground, and frightened bands of refugees were huddled everywhere. Some were suffering from cuts and blows; others appeared to have magically afflicted injuries.

‘It’s like they don’t care who they’re attacking any more,’ Evelyn muttered under her breath, outrage surging within her. ‘This should never have happened.’

‘You’re right,’ said Varric. ‘It’s not a war. It’s a free-for-all. Mages versus Templars versus everybody else. It’s as if they don’t care who gets caught in their crossfire.’

‘Well, somebody has to!’ snapped Evelyn. She still felt cold and sick from the fighting; from the killing she’d been forced to do in order to arrive safely. ‘Cassandra, can’t we do something? Something that might help?’

‘That is one of the reasons we are here,’ nodded Cassandra approvingly. ‘After we have found this cleric Leliana spoke of, we should speak to the refugees.’

Evelyn nodded agreement. ‘Come on then.’

They eventually found Mother Giselle by the healing tents. She was not what Evelyn expected. Instead of a stern and unforgiving Chantry authority, the Revered Mother was a slender and softly-spoken woman, with kind dark eyes that seemed to shine with an inner light as she spoke.

‘I know of the Chantry’s denouncement of you,’ she was saying, as Evelyn fidgeted awkwardly with her staff. ‘I am familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the next Divine. Some are simply terrified.’

‘Of the Breach?’ replied Evelyn uncertainly. ‘Well, they should be.’

‘Of the Breach,’ agreed the cleric slowly. ‘And of what it forebodes. Some are saying that the Maker has forsaken us: that our sins lie so heavily upon the world, that the weight of them has torn the very sky in two. And then, out from the shadows, you appear as our salvation. Andraste’s Herald, bearing the power to heal the skies.’ She hesitated, subjecting Evelyn to a long, slow stare. She shifted uncomfortably beneath the Revered Mother’s steady gaze.

_I don’t remember what happened,_ she thought desperately. _I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m just… I don’t know. Just another frightened person caught in the middle of this mess._

‘I honestly don’t know if you were touched by fate or sent to help us, but… I hope.’ Mother Giselle shook her head sadly. ‘Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other.’ She narrowed her eyes, watching Evelyn shrewdly. ‘You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us.’

‘Me?’ Evelyn raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not in charge of the Inquisition. I’m only here because I’m trying to help.’ _And because the rest of Thedas still thinks I’m a criminal,_ her inner thought added. _Don’t forget that part. I couldn’t leave, even if I wanted to._

‘In these dark times, that is all that any of us may do,’ nodded the Revered Mother thoughtfully. ‘I will go to Haven, and provide Sister Leliana with the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. Go to them, and speak. Allow your voice to be heard. Show them that you are not a demon to be feared: and it will create doubt. This will take away their unified voice, and buy you the time you need. It is not much; but I too will do whatever I can.’

The Revered Mother bowed slightly, before beating a dignified retreat. Evelyn shook her head in bewilderment. _Why me?_ She thought. It wasn’t as if there was already more than enough for her to do. Many of the refugees she’d seen were cold, hungry, sick or wounded. They took priority over a bunch of whining clerics.

‘Come on,’ she muttered to Cassandra. ‘Let’s try to help these people first. We can always worry about the Chantry later.’

‘Agreed,’ replied the Seeker. ‘I have been speaking to some of our scouts. It appears there are several supply caches hidden in the woods that may be of use to the refugees.’

‘That sounds ideal,’ nodded Varric amiably. ‘So what’s the catch?’

Cassandra scowled. ‘They belong to the apostates. They will be guarded.’

Varric chuckled. ‘Just when I thought we weren’t taking sides in the war.’

‘We aren’t,’ snapped Cassandra. ‘We must rout both the mages and the Templars from the area. That way, it will be safer for the refugees to travel. It is no use feeding and clothing them, only to have them slaughtered on the road afterwards.’

‘Well, I’m game,’ shrugged Varric. ‘Bianca could always do with a bit more exercise anyway, couldn’t you girl?’ he added, tapping the crossbow’s stock lovingly.

‘Ugh.’ Cassandra groaned. ‘Come on. There is nothing to be gained by just standing around.’

‘A wise decision,’ said Solas thoughtfully. ‘However, this may prove to be an ambitious undertaking.’

‘Then the soon we begin, the better,’ retorted Cassandra, loosening her sword in its sheath. ‘This way. I asked Recruit Whittle to mark the areas on our map that he thinks hold the apostate caches. We can begin there.’

Varric sighed theatrically. ‘Just so long as we at least _try_ to steer clear of any bears this time?’ he said, winking broadly at Evelyn. ‘I still have claw-marks on some of my… _unmentionable_ areas after our last little scuffle.’

‘On you, Varric, that could be anywhere,’ replied Evelyn lightly, glancing sideways as the dwarf gave a short bark of laughter.

‘You know, you’re all right, Herald,’ chuckled the sturdy dwarf, shaking his head as he fell in step behind Cassandra. ‘Herald. Hmm. Gotta do something about that title though…’

~

The following weeks passed in a blur. Everywhere Evelyn went there always seemed to be something else to do. Her legs ached every morning, and her light travelling coat had become tatty, torn, and bloodstained. But to her surprise, she actually felt _happy._

She examined the feeling carefully late at night, moth-like beside the campfire while the rest of the party slept. It was a small, fragile little feeling; glittering in the midst of her worry about the Breach, about the war, about… well, everything; but it was there. She smiled faintly, relishing the reassuring sounds of her companions at rest. Cassandra breathed slowly and deeply, with the occasional quiet snuffle; while Varric’s snoring was loud enough to wake the dead. Solas always slept silently.

‘Herald?’

She jumped at the sound of a tentative voice behind her; but it was only Scout Harding, bumping a fist against her chest in nervous salute.

‘Hello,’ she said quietly, smiling up at the earnest young dwarf. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Um, nothing. I just thought… you looked lonely, sitting all by yourself.’ Harding hesitated, the uncertainty clear in her voice. ‘There’s been a lot of pressure on you lately. I just wondered if you needed some company before I turn in for the night.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’ Evelyn smiled warmly, gesturing to her left.

‘Thanks.’ The dwarf nodded, settling herself cross-legged beside the campfire, stretching her mailed hands towards its comforting warmth. ‘It’s pretty quiet out there tonight,’ she said after a moment. ‘The only things moving in that forest is the local wildlife.’

Evelyn snorted lightly. ‘As long as there are no more bloody bears nearby.’

Harding chuckled quietly. ‘Don’t worry. Just the odd hart and a handful of sleepy rams. Oh, and the occasional nug.’

Evelyn raised her eyebrows playfully. ‘Dangerous nugs, do you think?’

‘Oh yes, definitely. Probably the most dangerous nugs in all of Thedas,’ replied Harding, the laughter in her voice belying her mock-serious expression. ‘There’s probably an entire army of them waiting for us out there.’

Evelyn chuckled. ‘Well, so long as they don’t invade the camp, I’m happy.’ She smiled wryly. There it was again; that word _happy._ The sound of it made something bright and warm unfold within her chest. She shook her head, catching sight of Harding’s expression. ‘What is it?’ she added, tilting her head to one side. The young dwarf looked thoughtful.

Harding shrugged lightly. ‘Everything changes so quickly,’ she replied quietly. ‘I used to work on a farm, you know. Herding sheep and suchlike. It was fine at the time, but… sometimes it’s hard to really see the world when you’re stuck in one place, you know?’

‘I know what you mean.’ Evelyn nodded. ‘I spent most of my life in a tower,’ she added. ‘I grew into adulthood cut off from… well, everything. The world comes as a bit of a shock after that, I can tell you.’

Harding glanced up at her curiously. ‘What was it like?’

Evelyn shrugged lightly. ‘Like any isolated institution, I would imagine. Both crowded and lonely at the same time.’ She caught the young dwarf’s eye, and shook her head before Harding could speak. ‘Do not pity me,’ she added softly. ‘It wasn’t always bad. Perhaps not so very different from life at your farm: but with apprentices to herd instead of sheep; Templars to be wary of, instead of wolves; and demons to kill in place of bandits.’

The young dwarf laughed quietly. ‘How did you know there were bandits?’

Evelyn arched an eyebrow, amused. ‘How else would you be so deadly with a bow? You must’ve had practice somewhere.’ She forced herself to relax, setting her shoulders back and willing the tension to ease from them. _It’s been a long time since the Circle,_ she reminded herself. _And, Maker willing… I won’t have to go back._

‘I could teach you, if you like.’ Harding was looking at her curiously. ‘Just the basics. When we’ve got time, I mean. I know you’re a mage and all, but… perhaps it’d be a good idea to not always have to rely on magic to get you out of a tight spot.’

Evelyn nodded slowly. ‘That’s… probably the most sensible thing anyone’s said to me all day. I’d love to take you up on that offer, when we have time.’ She smiled and stretched, trying to conceal a yawn. ‘I think I’ll turn in now,’ she added. ‘Cassandra will glare at me if I start nodding off during an important negotiation. Again.’

Scout Harding nodded. ‘I guess that goes for me too.’ She rose gracefully, bumping her fist to her chest in salute once again. ‘Goodnight, Herald.’

‘Goodnight,’ echoed Evelyn, smiling fondly at the retreating scout’s back, feeling the tension in her weary muscles finally beginning to ease. The anxiety was still there, hovering in the back of her mind; but it took second place to a surge of contented satisfaction. She was doing well. She _knew_ she was doing well. The Inquisition’s reputation was beginning to spread; and with it, Evelyn’s confidence was growing. She returned to her tent, stripping down to her underclothes before wrapping herself tightly in a cocoon of blankets, mumbling a half-hearted warming spell to ward off the chill. _If this is my life now, then maybe it’s not so bad after all,_ she thought drowsily, as sleep finally closed her tired eyes.


	7. Returning Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evelyn and her party return from their time in the Hinterlands.

‘So, how is it feeling today?’

Evelyn jumped as a voice broke in on her thoughts, turning in her saddle to see Solas riding beside her, smiling faintly.

‘Your arm,’ he added, nodding towards the offending limb. ‘I notice you are treating it with caution. Does the burn still pain you?’

She rubbed at the injured limb ruefully. She’d received a bad burn during their last scrap with a group of apostate mages. If it hadn’t been for the combination of elfroot potions and Solas’s skill with rejuvenating magic, she’d have been crippled for life.

‘It’s not too bad,’ she replied. ‘It aches a little in this cold. That’s all.’

‘I see.’ Solas glanced around, the glimmer of a smile hovering over his lips. ‘Unfortunate then, that Haven is so high in the mountains. Perhaps we should have remained in the Hinterlands a little longer.’

Evelyn shook her head quickly. ‘No really, it’s fine. Thanks to you, anyway.’ She smiled, a little shyly. Despite the weeks they’d spent travelling together, the serene elf was still something of an enigma.

‘Well, I for one am glad we visited horsemaster Dennet,’ added Solas, glancing down at the rocky paths. A light dusting of frost glimmered beneath the hooves of their mounts. ‘The horses he was kind enough to offer us have hastened our return journey considerably.’

‘Absolutely.’ Evelyn nodded in agreement. ‘It’s lovely not to walk everywhere for a change. Besides, Scout Harding was right. These creatures are certainly some of the finest I’ve seen in years.’ She reached out to stroke the mane of her mount, and was rewarded with a contented whinny.

‘You have much experience with horses?’ asked Solas mildly. ‘I did not think there would be much call for them in a Circle of Magi.’

Evelyn blushed. ‘It was before the Circle,’ she replied carefully. ‘I grew up on the Trevelyan family estate. I spent much time in the stables when I was a young girl, learning to look after the mounts.’

‘I see,’ nodded Solas. ‘Forgive me. I forget that you did not spend your whole life in the Circle, like other mages I have known. I didn’t mean to bring up difficult recollections.’

Evelyn laughed softly. ‘There is nothing to forgive, Solas. It’s true, I miss my home, my family – well, some of my family,’ she added, pulling a wry face. ‘There are certain others I’d be happy never to lay eyes on again. But in truth… well, let’s just say that my Circle was nowhere near as bad as others.’

‘Really?’ Solas replied, the surprise evident in his tone. ‘That is… an unusual perspective. Most seem to regard them as little more than prisons.’

‘I know. And don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t go back. Not willingly.’ Evelyn sighed, glancing up at the vast, snow-capped vista of the Frostbacks in front of them. ‘There were… bad times, of course,’ she added quietly. ‘Some things that I’d like to forget; and some things that I never will, no matter how hard I try.’ She smiled sadly. ‘But that’s just the way life is, I guess. There are good times and bad times, no matter where you are. Besides, I enjoyed using magic; once I got the hang of it, of course. And our Circle library was the largest in the Free Marches.’

Solas nodded thoughtfully. ‘You enjoyed the study of magic, as well as the practice of it?’

Evelyn shrugged. ‘Of course. It’s the reason I’m a good mage. Besides, there was little else to do in the Tower but study. I was so determined not to fail my Harrowing.’ She laughed self-deprecatingly. ‘I had no idea what the Harrowing even was at the time; or what it entailed. I was simply eager to pass the test.’

She paused as the laughter died in her throat. Memories crowded her, bright and bitter, images from years long since passed into dust: the cold, mistrusting gaze of the armoured Templars; the dim light of the Harrowing Chamber; the dying screams of a young apprentice who had failed that final test.

‘You were not afraid?’ asked Solas quietly.

‘No,’ she replied slowly, surprised at the question. ‘I was not. It sounds so foolish, now I come to say it aloud. After all, I’m still afraid of a great many things. Spiders, for example. Enclosed spaces, public speaking…’ She smiled thinly. ‘But for some reason, I did not fear the test. I only feared failing it.’ She glanced sideways to find that he was studying her closely. ‘What is it?’

The slender elf smiled. ‘It is nothing. You are simply… not what I expected. Most would have been terrified under such circumstances. Yet you face your trials with courage. Just as you did at the Breach.’

Evelyn chuckled softly. ‘I was terrified at the Breach, Solas.’

‘I know,’ nodded the elf. ‘And that is why I call it courage. Think about it. A hero is not a man who stands before the darkness unafraid. A hero is a man who stands before the darkness _despite_ being afraid. It is that fear, and what he does with it, that makes him courageous.’

‘I hadn’t thought of it like that before,’ replied Evelyn thoughtfully. ‘I always thought that brave men weren’t afraid of anything.’ _Like Commander Cullen,_ her inner thought added. _He looks brave. Like he wouldn’t be frightened of anything the world threw at him._

Solas smiled, nodding approvingly. ‘It is the little things that matter, sometimes.’ He reached down to idly pat his horse’s neck. ‘Words have power, Herald. You would be wise to remember that.’

‘I know.’ Evelyn nodded, trying and failing to conceal a grin. ‘Varric’s been telling me the same thing. Not quite so elegantly, of course; and I’m fairly sure he means it in quite a different context.’

The elf sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Of course he does.’

Evelyn laughed, shaking her head as the icy wind of the Frostbacks whipped through her hair. Despite the chill, she found that she was pleased to be back. The past few weeks had been frantic, and a couple of days respite would be extremely welcome. _So would be sleeping in a real bed,_ she thought privately. _Bedrolls in camp are all very well; but sometimes, nothing beats a soft mattress and a proper feather pillow._

The frozen ground chimed beneath the hooves of their mounts as the walls of Haven rose into view before them. Evelyn was surprised. The little town looked to be bustling. Soldiers manned the walls, patrolling back and forth, the symbol of the Inquisition gleaming brightly upon their helmets. Even as they approached, a small patrol came marching up to meet them, their breath steaming in the frosted winter air.

‘My Lady Herald,’ said their leader, as she threw Evelyn a smart salute. ‘Welcome back, ser.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, trying to keep the uncertainty from her voice. ‘Any news for us, Corporal…?’

‘Corporal Sandras, ser,’ supplied the soldier, blushing slightly and saluting again. ‘No, ser. All quiet here, ser. No major incidents to report.’

‘Good.’ Cassandra reigned in her horse at Evelyn’s side. ‘Go and tell Sister Leliana and Commander Cullen that we have returned,’ added the Seeker. ‘And seek out Ambassador Montilyet as well. Tell them we shall convene in the war room in an hour.’

‘Right away, Lady Cassandra,’ replied the soldier, saluting hastily before marching away with the rest of her squad.

‘Did you hear that?’ said Cassandra quietly, once the Corporal was out of earshot. ‘They have a growing respect for you, Herald. You are becoming as vital to the running of the Inquisition as I, or Leliana. Possibly even more so. The people are beginning to look to us to make things right; and we must do it.’

‘I know.’ Evelyn nodded, watching the soldier’s retreating backs. ‘I realize that now. But…’ she sighed. ‘There is still so much to do,’ she said softly. ‘We’re still barely any closer to mounting an assault on the Breach.’

‘I know. But we are closer than we were before we set out, and that must count for something.’ Cassandra shot her an appraising look. ‘Sometimes, it is best to take these things slowly; not to rush into anything unprepared. I have learned this the hard way. I would rather you did not make the same mistakes.’ She slipped from her horse, dismounting with elegant ease, passing the reigns to a waiting stable lad. ‘I shall meet you in the war room,’ she added. ‘I have been craving a bath for weeks.’

Varric chuckled. ‘So that’s the reason you told them you’d meet in an hour?’ he said, sliding down from his mount with considerably less grace. ‘You’re just full of surprises today, Seeker.’

‘Ugh.’ Cassandra made a disgusted noise, turning on her heel to stride away. ‘At least I care about my personal hygiene, Varric,’ she snapped over her shoulder. ‘The smell of your tunic alone would disgust even a dead druffalo.’

Evelyn grinned, as Varric’s snort of laughter caused several townsfolk to turn and stare in surprise. She patted the dwarf on the shoulder before heading towards the gates, making for the little hut she’d been given as her own. She was just as desperate as Cassandra for a bath, as well as a change of clothing.

_Especially as Commander Cullen will be waiting in the war room,_ her internal thought whispered. Her heart gave a small jolt of excitement at the thought. _Stop that,_ she told herself sternly. _Thinking about the Commander like this is both foolish and dangerous. The situation here is quite complicated enough, without getting a crush on a damn ex-Templar as well._ But despite it all, she still couldn’t help but grin as she lowered herself gently into the steaming tub of water. There was just… something about him, she thought ruefully. Something that simply made her want to smile.

~

The hour passed all too slowly for Commander Cullen. Ever since Corporal Sandras had arrived with Cassandra’s message, he had been pacing distractedly around the training yard, barking at the soldiers with more than his usual impatience. It wasn’t that he was particularly eager to endure a long and arduous war meeting; those he could happily do without. But he hadn’t seen Evelyn – The Herald, he corrected himself swiftly – for weeks. The Inquisition’s business in the Hinterlands had taken longer than anyone had expected.

Not that he minded, of course. It was good that she’d been away so long, he thought; that she’d spent so much time helping people, looking out for the refugees, spreading word of the Inquisition around even that small part of Thedas. Reports had been coming in thick and fast from Scout Harding and her people, describing how the Herald had driven back the apostate mages and the rebel Templars from the Crossroads, as well as closing numerous fade rifts, ridding the land of demons and stabilizing the area. She’d even managed to get on the good side of the notoriously grumpy horsemaster Dennet. Overall, Cullen was impressed. So why did he still feel this strange, gnawing anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach?

He scowled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck in frustration. He was eager to see her again. _That_ was the problem, he thought ruefully. For some reason, despite how little time he’d spent with the Herald, her absence galled him. Without her around, Haven seemed less bright than before. There was something about her smile that made him want to…

He sighed, glancing up at the sun. It was almost time. He turned away from the training grounds, striding through the town, carefully _not_ looking out for a glimpse of bright blonde hair among the milling townsfolk. But as he neared the Chantry doors, he saw something that made him groan internally. A small crowd was gathering around a pair of men. He recognized their body language. A mage and a Templar, both squaring up for a fight. He quickened his pace, frowning. This was exactly what the Inquisition didn’t need.

‘Filthy magic-user! Your kind killed the Most Holy!’ The Templar was yelling.

‘Lies! Your kind let her die!’ snarled the offended mage, staff in hand.

‘Shut your mouth, mage!’ cried the Templar, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. _For Andraste’s sake,_ thought Cullen grimly. _This has gone too far already._

‘Enough!’ he bellowed, stepping between the two men, pushing them roughly apart. He drew himself up and glowered; trying to radiate the power and authority he knew he needed in order to command these troops.

‘Knight-Captain?’ replied the Templar uncertainly, releasing his sword hilt.

Cullen felt anger surge within him. ‘That is _not_ my title,’ he snarled. ‘We are _not_ Templars any longer. We are _all_ part of the Inquisition!’ He stood firmly between the arguing men, glaring from one to the other, almost daring them to continue their spat. It was with relief he saw their aggressive stances relax, as both sides fell back to grumbling.

‘And what does that mean, exactly?’ someone said from behind him. Cullen groaned. _Not him again,_ he thought.

‘Back already, Chancellor?’ he replied stiffly. ‘Haven’t you done enough?’

‘I’m simply curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its Herald will restore order as you’ve promised.’ An amused sneer stretched itself over Chancellor Roderick’s face. Cullen felt his hands ball themselves into fists at the disdain that dripped from the man’s voice, pronouncing the word _Herald_ as one might pronounce the word _dogshit._

‘Of course you are,’ he replied darkly, struggling to moderate his tone. ‘Back to your duties, all of you!’ he snapped, scowling fiercely at the gawking men and women that were still lingering beside them, perhaps hoping for another spectacle.

And there she was. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of golden hair in the crowd and knew, just _knew,_ it was her. _Maker have mercy,_ he thought frantically. He wished she hadn’t seen this: to witness how he’d nearly lost control over the troops already. _Perhaps Cassandra was wrong about me,_ he thought bitterly. _Perhaps I don’t have the strength after all: to take command, to fight, without taking…_

He bit back the treacherous thoughts. But the close presence of the angry Templar had set his teeth on edge. He could practically smell the lyrium on the man’s breath. His muscles burned, remembering the fire of it; longing for the strength he remembered surging through his veins at that first taste of raw power. At the time, it had been the best feeling in the world. But now…

He shook his head angrily. _I will be strong,_ his inner thought snarled. He would _not_ give in to his own weakness. He would _not_ be bound to the Order, or to the Chantry, any longer. He clenched his jaw, watching the crowd disperse, trying hard not to stare at Evelyn as she strode gracefully towards him, her staff slung casually over one shoulder, her hair gleaming in the fading sunlight.

‘Commander Cullen,’ she greeted him softly, with a polite dip of her head. Cullen noticed that she didn’t even deign to acknowledge the Chancellor: an action that sent a frustrated scowl over the other man’s face.

‘Herald,’ he replied formally, determined not to grin like an idiot at the sight of her. ‘Welcome back. I trust your business in the Hinterlands went well?’

‘It did,’ she replied, flashing him a brief but dazzling smile. _Maker’s breath,_ he swore internally, feeling his breath hitch and his pulse jump. ‘We’ve cleared all the rebel mages and Templar forces from the main travel and trade routes,’ she added with some satisfaction, meeting his gaze. ‘Though how long it’ll last…’ she shrugged.

Cullen nodded, running a hand over the back of his neck absent-mindedly. ‘They were already at war,’ he sighed. ‘Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death. It’s getting worse.’

‘Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order,’ interrupted Chancellor Roderick, glaring at Evelyn as though she was something disgusting that had stuck to the sole of his shoe. Cullen felt anger flare anew in the pit of his belly.

‘A proper authority? Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?’ he snapped, his temper momentarily getting the better of him.

The Chancellor scowled at him. ‘Who then? The rebel Inquisition and its so-called _Herald of Andraste?’_ he retorted. ‘I think not!’ He shot another furious look at Evelyn, and was met with an aloof, icy stare. Her face was a mask of disdain as she raised a single, challenging eyebrow.

‘At least the Inquisition is actually helping people, and doing something about this mess,’ she replied archly, somehow managing to look down her nose at the cleric, despite being several inches shorter than him. ‘All you Chantry folk seem to be doing is buzzing around impotently, like a hive of bees who’ve had their honey stolen.’

Cullen bit back a laugh. _A good shot,_ he thought admiringly, watching the Chancellor puff up with flustered indignation.

‘Centuries of tradition will guide us,’ the man intoned stiffly. Cullen noticed a muscle twitching in his jaw. _‘We_ are not the upstarts here: eager to turn over every apple cart, to usurp the proper order of things, to flout even the Chantry’s authority….’

Evelyn tilted her head to one side and smiled slightly. ‘Perhaps. But you may not have noticed, you actually have _no_ authority here, Chancellor,’ she replied sweetly, before turning towards Cullen. ‘Remind me why you’re allowing him to stay, Commander?’

‘He’s toothless,’ replied Cullen, folding his arms across his chest and delighting in the coil of warmth that curled around his ribcage as her eyes met his. ‘Like an old snake. There’s no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth.’

‘Ah. I knew there had to be good reason,’ she murmured, her eyes glittering with concealed mirth, before glancing back at the cleric. ‘Chancellor Roderick, I’m sure that such an _important_ and _influential_ Chantry official has better things to do than hang around attempting to undermine the good Commander, hmm?’ She smiled icily. ‘If you’d be so kind as to excuse us for a moment.’ To Cullen’s shock she looped her hand through his folded arm, resting her fingers daintily in the crook of his elbow. ‘Would you care to escort me to the war room, Commander?’ she added. ‘I wouldn’t want to be late for the meeting and risk Cassandra’s wrath.’

‘It would be my pleasure, Lady Trevelyan,’ he replied, feeling his face flush with unexpected heat, inclining his head formally and trying to conceal his laughter at the sour expression on the Chancellor’s face as they turned away, stepping together into the dim warmth of Haven’s Chantry. He heard the doors swing ponderously closed behind them and swallowed hard, suddenly all too aware of her hand, still resting lightly on his arm. The slight weight of it swamped his thoughts, and all of the things he’d wanted to say to her before suddenly seemed to fly out of his head. _Say something!_ He thought desperately to himself. _Anything!_

‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘Hmm?’ He was pulled from his thoughts by Evelyn’s low voice, as he realized that she had been the one to break the silence between them.

‘That… silliness with the Chancellor just then. I hope you don’t think I was too rude, or overstepped my boundaries with my remarks.’ She was looking up at him earnestly, a trace of earlier anxiety in her eyes.

‘It’s quite all right,’ he replied warmly. ‘I must admit, it was hard not to laugh at the look on the man’s face. I wasn’t aware you had such a sharp tongue.’

‘I was raised among nobles,’ she replied simply. ‘I was taught to hold my own in arguments and debates long ago. And I’ve since discovered that a barbed comment or two, delivered at the right moment, and in the right tone of voice, can be far more effective than a week’s worth of shouting.’

Cullen nodded. ‘Well, you certainly proved that point,’ he replied. ‘Josephine will be delighted, I’m sure. We need someone else with a knack for diplomacy around here.’

She laughed quietly. ‘I’m not sure I’d call that diplomacy,’ she replied, as the doors to the war room swung open.

‘You wouldn’t call _what_ diplomacy, exactly?’ asked Josephine, smiling and waving her hand shyly in polite greeting as they stepped through the doors.

‘Oh,’ smiled Eveyn, blushing. ‘We had a run-in with Chancellor Roderick by the Chantry entrance. He was being… well…’

‘A damned nuisance, as usual,’ finished Cullen, scowling.

‘He is just trying to stir up trouble,’ nodded Leliana, a slight smile on her pale face. ‘I believe he is hoping the Inquisition will fail, and fall into the same kind of chaos that the Chantry currently flounders in. We must not allow that to happen.’ She tilted her head slightly, birdlike, her quick gaze flickering between Cullen and the Herald. Too late, Cullen realized Evelyn’s hand was still on his arm, and that somewhere along the way he’d placed his other hand over hers, steadying it in a protective gesture. Cullen felt his ears reddening with embarrassment. It had felt so natural, so instinctive, that he hadn’t even noticed doing it. He glanced sideways, his throat tight, and was surprised to see a faint blush staining the Herald’s cheeks as well. She quickly withdrew her hand, shooting him an apologetic glance and twining her fingers together nervously.

‘Well, I had to get Cullen away from the Chancellor somehow,’ she shrugged, answering Leliana’s look instead of her words. ‘It seemed the quickest way.’

‘I see.’ The spymaster’s voice was low with concealed laughter as she took up her usual place beside the war table. Cullen’s arm felt strangely bereft as he stepped forward to stand next to her, ignoring the stern look that Cassandra shot him.

‘You’ve read our reports?’ the Seeker asked brusquely.

‘We all have,’ Josephine replied. ‘I am glad you spoke with Mother Giselle. She’s been as good as her word. I have been in contact with the Chantry officials she named. I believe it will not be long before they are ready to speak to us. Or… to speak with _you,_ specifically,’ she added, nodding gracefully towards Evelyn. ‘After all, it is you that so much of the speculation has been about.’

Cullen watched the Herald consider the Ambassador’s words carefully before replying. _She seems different somehow,_ he thought to himself. _Brighter. More confident, and less afraid, than before._ Something warm and golden seemed to settle in his chest, just beneath his heart, at the thought. He watched her speak from the other side of the table, noticing the growing strength in her voice as she discussed her time in the Hinterlands, pausing now and then to allow Cassandra to interject. The travelling appeared to have done her some good. Her skin seemed to be positively glowing in the candlelight, still pale but with a healthy flush on her cheeks that hadn’t been there before. He allowed his gaze to drift, taking in the smooth lines and curves of her body, still clearly visible even beneath her travelling coat. But it was with a sharp stab of concern that he noticed the bandage on her arm, only visible when she raised her hand in a gesture that pulled her sleeve back and revealed the pale linen wrapped tightly around her wrist. _What’s that?_ He thought, panic flaring momentarily. _Is she hurt? How badly?_ He shook himself mentally. _Calm down,_ he told himself firmly. _She’d still be in the healing tents if the injury was severe._

‘We will discuss what to do about the Chantry when the clerics are ready to talk,’ he heard Cassandra’s stern voice say. ‘In the meantime, there are other things we must consider.’

‘Indeed,’ said Leliana. ‘I have several scout reports, from the marshlands east of here, and the coast as well. Some are better than others.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Evelyn, leaning forward interestedly.

‘We’ve had word from a group of mercenaries, the Bull’s Chargers. They wish to pledge their services to the Inquisition, and want to speak with the Herald of Andraste in person. They’ll be waiting for you down on the Storm Coast.’ Leliana checked her notes. ‘That is the good news. The bad news is that a group of our soldiers have gone missing in the Fallow Mire. We must find out what has become of them.’

Cullen watched Evelyn hesitate before replying. ‘Surely that is the more important task?’ she said slowly, glancing between Cassandra and Leliana. ‘Our missing people, I mean. They might be lost, hurt, alone… someone should be looking for them.’

‘Someone?’ repeated Leliana. ‘Our current resources are scant, Herald.’

Evelyn shrugged. ‘If I knew where it was… I could go. I want to help, and I enjoy the travelling far more than I’d expected. And we’ve got horses now, which would cut the time it’d take to get there considerably.’ She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Besides, anywhere called the Fallow Mire sounds like a grim place,’ she added, wrinkling her nose. ‘I’d hate to be lost and alone somewhere like that, thinking that no-one was coming for me.’

Cullen felt a wave of relief wash over him. She was offering to help again – sincerely as well, if the conviction in her eyes was anything to go by – and it was _his_ people, _his_ soldiers that were potentially in trouble. He wanted to speak up, to say _thank you_ at least; but one small sideways smile from her was enough to make the words stumble in his throat.

‘Then it is settled,’ he heard Cassandra say decisively. ‘We will start for the Mire as soon as we may. The lives of those who’ve already pledged themselves to the Inquisition’s cause are more important than hiring mercenaries. Let us show them that we look after our own.’

‘Excellent.’ Josephine made a note. ‘I do not need to remind you all that our every action will be judged, by the Chantry as well as others. It is up to us to make sure that the Inquisition appears favorably to prying eyes.’

Cullen snorted derisively. ‘Let them pry,’ he muttered. ‘We’re doing a damn sight more than the Chantry, that’s for certain.’

Leliana chuckled. ‘Be that as it may, appearances are everything, especially in Orlais,’ she said softly. ‘We must also be _seen_ to be doing more than the Chantry. Our influence must spread. Which is where you come in again,’ she added, turning to Evelyn.

‘I know,’ the mage smiled and nodded wearily. ‘The same as in the Hinterlands, yes? Spread word of the Inquisition, recruit potential agents, and throw fireballs at anybody stupid enough to get in our way.’ She sighed, a shadow seeming to flicker across her face at the words. ‘I learned that last part a little late,’ she admitted. ‘But I think I’ve got the hang of it now.’

‘Good,’ Cullen nodded firmly. ‘But please, take extra care. The Fallow Mire can be a dangerous place.’ He felt a shiver run through him as her blue eyes latched onto his once more.

‘It seems everywhere in Thedas is dangerous right now, Commander,’ she replied softly. ‘But I… will do my best.’ She shrugged. ‘I just hope we don’t have to leave right away,’ she added, throwing a pained look at Cassandra. ‘Lovely as that bath was, I’ve been looking forward to sleeping in a real bed for _weeks_.’

Cullen felt his breath hitch again, and cleared his throat nervously to cover his embarrassment. _Bath. Bed._ Such simple words: but when they fell from her lips they triggered a swarm of unwelcome thoughts, flooding the corridors of his mind with a series of images that sent a blush racing back into his cheeks. _Andraste’s mercy,_ he thought furiously, trying to curb his imagination. Dimly he registered Leliana assuring the Herald that she wouldn’t need to leave for another few days at least: until proper preparations had been made. The soft, breathy sigh of relief she gave at that information did not help him at all.

~

The meeting finally ended. The sun had already sunk below the horizon by the time they left the war table, casting pink and orange streaks across the darkening sky. Josephine had excused herself and ducked back into her office, muttering something about a mountain of paperwork. Cassandra was heading towards the training grounds, sword in hand and a determined expression on her face. Leliana had vanished.

‘May I escort you anywhere, Lady Trevelyan?’ Cullen asked quietly. Evelyn turned, looking up into soft amber eyes, smiling delightedly when he offered her his arm like a true Ferelden gentleman.

‘My thanks, Commander,’ she replied, feeling something warm tug inside her. ‘Just in case any more angry Chancellors spring from the shadows, ready to demand my immediate trial and execution?’ she added playfully.

‘Just in case,’ he chuckled, nodding in agreement. She took his arm carefully, mindful of his armor as she rested her hand lightly on his forearm, trying to ignore the wave of excited giddiness that bubbled up inside her.

‘Where to?’ he asked.

‘To anywhere I can get some sleep around here,’ she replied, raising her hand to stifle a yawn. ‘I’ve learnt so much recently, and I love horse-riding as much as the next person, but I must admit… it’s been an exhausting few weeks.’

They made their way slowly towards the small huts beside Haven’s gates, footsteps muffled by the perpetual snow. Even as they walked, a fresh flurry of white flakes swirled around them, glittering brightly in the fading light. She shivered.

‘You’re cold.’ Cullen’s voice was soft beside her. ‘Let’s get you inside quickly. I overheard Sister Leliana saying that we’ll have even more snow by morning.’

‘She said that?’ Evelyn smiled despite her tiredness. ‘Does our spymaster also predict the weather now?’

Cullen chuckled. ‘I’ve long since given up trying to keep track of what the Nightingale can and cannot do.’

‘Probably for the best,’ nodded Evelyn wryly. ‘All I know is, I’d hate to be on her bad side. Do you know, when I first met her she terrified me even more than Cassandra, despite the fact that the Seeker was the one grabbing my arm and shaking me until my teeth rattled?’

‘She did that?’ asked Cullen, frowning. ‘That sounds…’

‘Exactly like Cassandra,’ Evelyn finished, smiling when he turned towards her, surprised. ‘At the time, she thought I’d caused the explosion at the Conclave that killed the Divine, and triggered the Breach. I don’t blame her for being angry.’ She paused. They’d reached the door of her little hut. She felt Cullen shifting nervously beside her, as the silence stretched out between them. Still she hung back, reluctant for the moment to go inside; to leave the warm, comforting presence of the Commander beside her.

‘I… must take my leave of you here,’ Cullen said eventually. ‘I should be… getting back. To the barracks, I mean.’ His voice was very low. She almost didn’t catch what he’d said, as a breath of cold wind swirled around them, snatching his words away as soon as they left his lips. She nodded, suddenly shy, trying not to think of how beautiful he looked with the dancing snow glimmering in his pale hair, settling like stardust on his fur collar and broad shoulders.

‘Thank you, Commander. For the escort. And for… um… well, for everything.’ She bit her lip, wondering what she was saying, and why she was suddenly so nervous; why it felt as though a swarm of moths had taken up residence in the cavity of her chest. Her stomach did a flip when he stepped back, offering her a small, swift bow.

‘It was my pleasure,’ he replied haltingly. ‘I… well, should you need anything before you go… I’ll be around.’ The scarred corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a crooked smile.

_Oh my dear sweet blessed Andraste,_ she thought frantically, hoping that he couldn’t hear the sudden thundering of her heartbeat. _By the Maker’s holy socks, that smile. It should be weaponized. It could level entire cities._

‘Thank you,’ she said aloud, hoping she didn’t sound anywhere near as breathless as she feared. ‘Good night, Commander. Sleep well.’

She dipped her head briefly, fumbling for the latch as Cullen nodded slightly before turning away. ‘Sweet dreams, my lady,’ he replied, so quietly she wasn’t certain whether she’d actually heard him; or whether her flustered mind was playing tricks on her again. She stepped inside and closed the door firmly, before leaning back on it and releasing a long, slow breath, praying silently for strength. She was feeling so distracted that it took her several seconds to notice the large, unfamiliar package sitting on her bed. She frowned slightly, stepping closer to look. A note had been pinned to it, unsigned; but her frown softened into a smile when she realized who it was from.

_Herald,_

_Hope you enjoy the cozy bearskin blanket. Would be even nicer if there was someone you could share it with. I’m thinking maybe someone tall, blond, and with a permanent serious expression? And no, I’m not talking about you._

‘Varric,’ she chuckled to herself. The good-humored dwarf had taken to teasing her relentlessly about Cullen, despite her protestations. But to give him his due, he never did it when the Commander was actually present. Perhaps he knew that would be more than she could handle.

Because really, that was the problem. It was stupid, and reckless, and quite possibly dangerous; but Evelyn knew that she would be lying if she said that she didn’t feel anything for the Inquisition’s handsome Commander. The man was beautiful, well-spoken, intelligent, charming, kind… and a Templar. _No,_ her inner thought whispered. _He’s not a Templar any longer. He said so himself. That must count for something, surely…?_

She swallowed hard. A lot of feelings were bubbling up inside of her; strange, bewildering emotions that she didn’t want to put a name to just yet. She had the overwhelming urge to speak: to let some of it out. She furrowed her brow and thought hard, remembering the old romantic novels she’d snuck out of the Circle library, as well as the extensive, and often graphic, curses taught to her by some the rowdier apprentices. There were some good lines in there, she knew. But somehow, none of them seemed to really sum up precisely how she felt.

‘Oh, _bugger,’_ she said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, friends!


End file.
